


Unseeled

by FangamerBowiextreme



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:48:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 115,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25034983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangamerBowiextreme/pseuds/FangamerBowiextreme
Summary: Sarah, contending over the imminent death of her terminally ill father, receives a proposition that sounds too good to be true. The life of her father, the eternal protection of a fae over her entire family, in exchange for her hand in marriage. In a moment of weakness, afraid, but too guilt-stricken to refuse, she accepts the proposal -but to whom, she has no idea. Just so long as it isn't 'Him'... (archive warnings are for thematic elements, which apply much, much later in the story)
Relationships: Jareth/Sarah Williams
Comments: 73
Kudos: 332





	1. Chapter 1

The sun was setting. Every night, like clockwork, it seemed they found one another. It loomed large in the sky, brilliant, imposing, tearing through a misty gradient of red and gold and black. He watched it lower slowly, a movement that ached, rippling and shredding that deep, ominous color as it sank once more beneath the horizon. Such power, he thought. Such perilousness. He gazed a gazeless stare, for what he saw was not the sun, was not the night encroaching upon him, but a figment of inky blackness far heavier, that shone bleak with stern resilience against him. T'was a bruise upon the sunset, a very scar he felt upon his own heart.

He cared not for the shadows that weighed on his shoulders. Cared not for that light that reached so far. What he sought was something far more elusive: the glow of a candle through a mere window, in a tower in a castle far beyond his sight. He cared for that place most perilous, that place that hovered in twilight. It was only in these brief few minutes each night that their gazes might cross. Might he see it now? Might he be staring back? The night came as it always did, black and empty, turning its own back as he so often did.

" _Ahem_ ….Sire?"

He'd heard the sound of boot on stone echoing towards him for some time, yet still he hesitated to respond. Beguiling was that view, that most seductive glimmer of hope.

"Do you have news for me?" he asked, staring straight ahead. That place contended with the sun fought against being swallowed by it, its silhouette vibrating against the light. He need not turn to face his answer; he'd known it all along.

"Nothing new unfortunately...shall we...try again?"

His brow softened at the defeated tone of his subordinate. Surely his shoulders were hunched, surely he was staring at the back of his head with wide-eyes that were worried. He lowered his own head then.

"He does this to spite me, I know that, and still I thought we would find a match by now. It seems there are none so _irresistible_ …"

"Perhaps...rather than irresistible, we must simply find one more suitable…?"

"One more suitable than our first dozen? Hundred? Two?" The young lad was surprised to see him turn back with a smile on his face. It was weak. Hollow. "He does this out of petulance. I fear merit will not win us this battle."

There was silence after that. He held his head high but could sense his companion's lower to the floor. He was content to end the discussion there, and turned as if to leave...

"Then perhaps we should try a means other than merit."

He paused and glanced back.

"What means?"

"I...I have been thinking...If Your Majesty would be willing to listen, I may have a suggestion."

* * *

**Chapter 1, Proposition**

* * *

The sun was setting. The evening was colder than usual. The grass became less vivid beneath her feet, the chains she grasped more sterile. They creaked as she moved, gliding back and forth on a lonely park swing. She stared down at her toes as they dragged through gravel. It was so quiet here, so deathly quiet. The sound of the chains, once obnoxious and rousing, now seemed distant. She was staring off into nothing. It was safer there. Peaceful.

She came here to clear her head. To think things through and make the responsible decision...for her future. She'd had quite some time to contemplate her options after all.

As if on instinct she stopped swinging, dragging her feet until she came to a halt. Her brow furrowed, and the creaking of the chains quelled. She'd gotten a feeling just then ...like someone was watching her. She raised her head and looked to the right.

"Oh. You're quite attentive, aren't you? And here I thought you looked to be in a daze."

What?

Startled, she pulled back from the man sitting in the swing beside her. He had already been staring at her and there was a smile on his face. Huh? When did he get there? How did she not notice? Was she really zoning out that badly?

"...Can I help you?" she asked, eyeing him sternly as a sharp arch lifted his brow. There was a kind of glimmer to his eyes, like deep emeralds, something otherworldly almost. She eyed him precariously as he leaned back and turned towards her a little.

"Perhaps. Or rather, I'm certainly hoping so."

"Excuse me?"

She didn't show it, but such a response actually had her feeling pretty alarmed. What the hell? Who was this guy? Without preamble, he stood and took a few steps to stand in front of her; her fists tightened on the chains that supported her.

"I sense your body tensing, but please be at ease. I mean you no harm, Sarah." Her eyes widened and she went to stand, but his hand reaching out urged her to stay seated. For some reason, she did.

"How do you know my name?"

There was something not-so-friendly forming in her expression. She was in no mood to deal with some creep. Did she know him from school? No, he looked too old to still be in school...maybe work? She wasn't sure; she was usually pretty good with faces but still didn't recognize him.

"I know a great many things about you. It is my prerogative after all."

"What? Who are you?" she asked. The man cracked another grin, one she knew not to trust.

"A friend." She stared at him wordlessly, and the longer the silence stretched the more he realized he was making the complete wrong impression. That glare of hers was so intense. Far too direct. Perhaps he should switch tactics. His gaze narrowed and he tisked a finger at her. "You have a very discerning eye, I see. One might suppose you see me for what I really am."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

There was irritation in her voice, something that warned she should not be trifled with. It was kind of cute. He had to fight hard not to show a smile.

"Hm...Perhaps I will cut to the chase then…"

"Please do."

The man glanced to the ground, hesitant almost, as if he wasn't fully prepared. He should have done more research...he wasn't quite sure which approach to take. Perhaps he should be as forward as her stare.

"Do you know what I am?"

Sarah was silent as the question echoed in the breeze around them, but it was the uncertainty in his expression that truly put her off. What? What kind of question was that? Why did she feel so alarmed by it? Should she...be running for the hills? She stared up at him, inadvertently wide-eyed. It appeared that deep down she knew the answer to such a question. Perhaps he should help pry it out of her.

"I...I don't understand…"

His eyes narrowed and that haphazard grin he'd been suppressing gave way to form a hard line. Her eyes darted as she'd said that, and from said gesture he supposed she understood perfectly well.

"Hm, I see…" Her head darted up, but the man had already looked away. He took a step and kicked a stone. "Nevertheless, I've come to offer you my assistance. If you'll accept it, that is."

"Assistance? With what? How do you even know who I am?" For as caught off guard as she must have been, he was surprised by how composed she was being. In fact, she was a bit too composed. It was highly unexpected.

"You don't trust me. That is understandable, perhaps even wise. However...I would like you to think of me as something of a...oh how do you folk phrase it...a fairy godmother?"

He glanced back at the impulsive giggle the burst out of her.

"Pfft. What? My fairy godmother? Are you kidding me?"

She was actually smiling, but it was a look of absurdity rather than amusement. Clearly she wasn't taking him seriously. He turned a little more and put his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

"No. Not in the slightest. I admit, I am poor at making an entrance but...will you simply entertain me for a moment?" He stood, waiting for a simple answer to his simple question, and thus grew suspicious at the way her own eyes narrowed in kind. Gods her stare was unwavering, like it was boring straight through him. Did she even realize it? Perhaps he was simply unaccustomed to a human so...brazen.

"Your accent. Where is it from?" She changed directions with complete disregard to his request, and to this he pulled back from his contemplation to find her still staring him dead in the eye. He reconsidered his words. She didn't appear to be startled or frightened of him in the slightest.

"Why? Do you recognize it?" He smiled at her wryly, and she narrowed her eyes again. The longer she observed, the more she suspected there was indeed something familiar about this fellow, more than the way he spoke. She eyed him up and down, looking for clues. He was tall, thin, and had inky black hair that was somewhat long and fell messily around his face. His eyes were green, so green she doubted it to be natural. He was dressed rather oddly, Gothic almost, wearing a long black tailcoat with what she might ignorantly call Victorian-style embellishments. Her eyes traveled down to the grass and saw the toe of his boots were gold-plated. Who exactly was this guy...no, no he'd already given it away hadn't he? It wasn't a who, but a _what._ What...what the heck was this guy?

"...You're not human, are you?"

The man smiled. He smiled widely.

"No. Not in the slightest."

"How did you find me? More importantly, what do you want with me? I didn't make a wish."

"Not verbally, no." He could sense strong defense rising in her voice and, in an effort to appease her, moved to retake his spot on the swing. There was such a brightness to her now. She was alarmed, but in no way surprised. _Hm...good,_ he thought. "I told you, I'm here to offer my assistance. I sense there is much to be gained from one another."

"Hm, a bargain then? Some fairy godmother you are, asking an eye for an eye. How is it you were even able to find me anyway?" She spoke much more boldly now, though he wasn't sure if it was a front.

"Creatures like me-"

"You mean Fae."

He paused at her interruption and cracked a smile. _So audacious_. Would her tone change if she knew exactly to whom she was speaking?

"Yes... _creatures like me_ …" he continued, glancing down as his fingers laced in his lap. "We are drawn to those touched by magic. Would you not agree that you have indeed been _touched_?"

"If you're here because of what happened-"

"Pardon?"

"Toby. If you're here to try and take Toby back, I swear I'll-"

"Excuse me but- no. Please-" He raised a hand to calm her down and, when he saw it somewhat worked, he caught her eye and carried on. "Whatever it is you're talking about, or rather preparing to take up arms over, I haven't the slightest notion." He spoke plainly but it didn't seem to be convincing enough. She stared at him for what felt like a long time, noticeably tense. In that brief moment he wondered what exactly had occurred during her time in the labyrinth, what that mongrel had done to her... After a few seconds though she glanced away, her expression now a scowl.

"You knew I was _touched by magic_ …"

"Yes. I can sense it. It is as if my world has left an imprint on you. However, unless you wish to share, the details of your stay...are a complete mystery to me," he explained. Sarah's eyes darted back again.

"So...you being here is just a coincidence then? It has _nothing_ to do with what happened before?"

"Well...not necessarily. Let's just say I'm not the type of person who believes in coincidences," he responded, cryptically. Sarah continued to stare at him. She should be running away screaming right now, and yet she wasn't. Instead she found herself intrigued. What did he want? She couldn't think of any reason why _that man_ would be after her again. Could she really trust this stranger's presence?

"You said you're here to help me. What exactly do you plan to help me with?" she asked, her eyes following him as he began to casually sway on the swing.

"Tell me first...why are you wallowing by your lonesome?"

"That's none of your business," she was quick to respond.

"But it could be. Something troubles you. Here, as an act of goodwill I shall lend you an ear."

He spoke somewhat earnestly and yet kept himself staring straight ahead, like he was merely humoring her. That type of highhandedness irked her.

"From the way you speak it seems like you're pretty self-assured. Should I just assume you already know exactly what my predicament is?" she asked, a bit cattily, and turned away from him. The man paused.

"Your own assurance in my omnipotence is indeed flattering, but admittedly not exactly true. While I can say I do know a great deal about you, as is commonplace for any halfway decent fairy godmother, for the sake of this pleasant conversation here, perhaps you'll tell me more about it anyway."

For some reason Sarah felt some of the fight leave her. It felt like he was scolding her a little. Or perhaps that was her own guilt talking, her own uncertainty at the fact that this man had repeatedly offered to help her and she so direly, foolishly, wanted it.

"I'm...putting my affairs in order," she said, glancing down and letting her toes drag as the swing swayed from the motion.

"Your affairs? My, you're not dying are you?" Such an insensitive comment had her glaring back at him, though it was immediately met with a shrewd side-eye from him. He may be speaking more flippantly, but it seemed this dangerous stranger had gotten a bit more serious. She bit her tongue and scrunched her brow.

"No. I'm not. It's my father."

"Your father?"

"Yes...He's very sick."

"Might I ask what illness afflicts him?"

She pursed her lips and scowled to herself at how pushy he was being. She sat with her shoulders hunched, uncomfortable, and yet for some reason still giving in to his scrutiny.

"He has cancer. He's had it for a while actually, a couple years now. Treatments aren't working though. He's getting worse. Just recently the doctors had _the talk_ with my stepmom and me. He probably won't last more than a few more weeks." As she spoke it seemed the space around her had become sullen, a dull grey mist preceding dusk. She looked around it, peered through it. It was nothing after all. Nothing.

"I see...that is very unfortunate."

"But I assume you already knew that?" she countered. Her hands were gripping the chains of the swing tighter than needed and she peered over to the man with a plea in her scowl. To her surprise, the man had ceased swinging and now sat at full attention. He looked...genuinely concerned. But how could she trust it?

"I knew there was a sickness plaguing your house. It creates a bit of a leering presence around those who suffer it. Grief, worry, resentment-"

"Resentment?" she repeated sharply. The man eased back a bit, a glimmer of knowing deep in his eyes.

"I could have kept investigating your situation until I had proper leverage to help you, but instead I chose to learn directly from you the things I do not know. In order for us to strike a bargain, you'll need to be more honest. Like, for instance, the real reason you're sitting here alone."

"What? So you've been stalking me? What are you- How dare you- I just said-" She stuttered and stammered, flailing around a bit in frustration. She was angry all of the sudden, but more than that, she was in pain. She grimaced away from him and gripped the chains even harder. "What other possible reason could there be for me to be upset?"

"That is, quite simply, what I've come to ask you."

"For someone who's not omnipotent, you seem to have it all figured out," Sarah said, sarcastically, and rolled her eyes. She waited but the man beside her was silent and she realized the conversation would not progress until she fessed up. What the heck was this? She came here to deliberate on her own, she didn't need some random fae popping in to peer pressure her into feeling like an asshole. The silence dragged on, and after another moment of it she sighed heavily and buried her face in her hands. "Hmph, I'm ashamed. Okay?"

"Why?"

Taking a deep breath, she eased up from her position and averted her eyes.

"I...got in a fight with my stepmom today. She hasn't been...handling the situation very well. Actually, it's more like she's coming undone."

"I see. I imagine that is quite the burden."

"Burden? How about I have a six-year-old brother who doesn't understand what's happening, and is confused and afraid of the way his mother's been acting, asking me things like: _why does Mommy cry all the time? Why is Mommy yelling? Where's Daddy? Is Daddy still sick? When's Daddy coming home?_ And instead of considering the emotional welfare of her child, she just keeps losing it. Today I tried suggesting that she start thinking about applying for jobs…" she trailed off, lost in a more dour thought. The man cocked a brow and helped her along.

"And that's what started the fight?"

"Heh, yeah. Don't get me wrong, I like Karen. I do. But honestly? She thinks she's a pretty little princess who's never had to do anything for herself ever. She's had two marriages before my father, both who had money, so she's never had to work a single day in her life. And my father spoils her more than Toby. The prospect of getting out in the world and doing something for herself terrifies her, but more than that, she's terrified by the idea that my dad won't be around -which I get. I'm terrified too, but still. Me bringing up the practicality of getting a job _just in case_ just sent her over the edge, I guess. She refuses to acknowledge the truth of the situation. She _will not_ believe that he is going to die. Ignorance is bliss but only 'till she finds herself on the street flat on her ass." She paused after that and shook her head in exasperation. Relaying all this was just getting her stressed. She didn't even bother to acknowledge how easily she was spilling all these guts of hers to, not only a total stranger, but an otherworldly fae. The man beside her however was patient and allowed her to compose herself. He sat silently until she continued. "What I don't get is how she can be so willfully in denial when she has a child to worry about. I mean, my family is decently middle-class, my dad has good life insurance, but that will only last so long with the way she lives if she refuses to work! And what if she's so unstable she can't keep a job? What will happen to Toby?"

"And...this causes you to feel shame? Why?"

Again Sarah paused, physically this time. He could see how wide her eyes were through her hair as she held her head low.

"Because...because...I'm starting my junior year of college next month…"

This time the man became confused. His brow furrowed and he tilted his head.

"Forgive me, I'm not sure I fully understand-"

"Because college is expensive okay!?" she interrupted him with tightly clamped eyes. "Because it's time consuming. Because my father is dying and the only thing I've been able to think about the last few weeks is what's going to happen after? What's going to happen to me? _My_ future? The school decided to raise my tuition this year and I don't know what to do. I can't afford it out of my own pocket, and I don't have the time to be a full-time student _and_ keep my job _and_ take care of Toby. I'd end up either dropping out or massively in debt with an even more massive amount of guilt on my conscience for putting my own desires first. I didn't expect Karen to be this difficult. I shouldn't need to take care of her too. Expecting her to find a means that will support herself and her son, not even considering me, in my opinion is looking highly improbable. Insurance doesn't cover everything, you know. And even if she does find a job she's actually able to perform, who will take care of Toby? Yes, my dad has life insurance but it's not _that_ much. We have a big house with a big mortgage, and all the medical expenses insurance didn't cover. Will she be able to afford a sitter? Should I help out more? What if I don't have time for school? I won't be able to afford it anyway, so I might as well drop out right? Get a full-time job and help my family? That is the responsible, moral thing to do, isn't it? A good daughter wouldn't hesitate, right? Am I a horrible person for not wanting that? For wanting to put my own success first? For thinking about anything else other than the pain my father is currently going through?"

At this point she was more or less professing to the heavens and he knew that. Instead of responding, he continued to observe silently. She seemed to have a strong character, a sound moral ground. Perhaps she would stand a chance after all.

"I'm being selfish. Right now I should be with my father, appreciating the time we have left and loving him, and instead I'm here worrying about what's going to happen after he's gone, about all the things I won't get to do because he's gone. Is that not plenty of cause to feel ashamed?" She'd calmed down now and turned to him for an answer. He tilted his head again, his stare on her candid.

"I think it is natural to think about the future in a time of great change. I think what is responsible is that you're taking the time to seriously ponder those practicalities."

While on some level such a response soothed her, by her outward reaction it seemed that was not what she wanted to hear. She turned away sharply, still contending with her contrary emotions.

"I'm just...afraid I guess. And I can't even say what I'm afraid of the most is losing my father. I'm afraid of what will happen to _me_ once he's gone. Is that not horrible?"

"I think a fae is perhaps not the best source to inquire on issues of human morality. But, if it's any consolation, I do not frown upon such thoughts in the slightest. Self-preservation is a trait that I think unites all manner of living creature."

He noticed her posture relax after that, her stare on the ground turning somewhat vacant. He was a little surprised she'd taken his words seriously.

"I guess…" she murmured, falling back into her original state of wallow. After a moment, however, she straightened up, brushed a hand across her face, and shrugged. "Well, that's my sob story...You said we could help each other. What is it you're proposing exactly? Going to make all my dreams come true?" she asked.

"Depends on what it is you dream about, I suppose. However, now I think I am able to discern how best to help you. Your father's illness, it would stand to say a great deal of your problems would be resolved if he were to recover, yes?" He caught a type of twitch move through her and suddenly her gaze was beaming at him. "What if I told you I could heal your father? Not only that, I could ensure the longevity and prosperity of your entire family for the rest of their lives, for generations even."

"What? You can do that?"

"Human disease is a trivial matter to someone like me. I am familiar with this illness; indeed I can perform such a feat. A fae's blessing is...well, a blessing." Sarah's eyes flickered with a type of light she hadn't been privy to for a long time. She sat up a little straighter, but that was all the reaction she would allow as her brow instead drew tight.

"But not for free right? That's what you're getting at, isn't it? You said we could bargain, gain from one another. What is it you want from me exactly?" He was impressed by the level of resolve she displayed, a level so high it took precedent over the hopeful, or rather hopeless, tears she kept restrained behind it. He smiled then, a one-sided grin, and turned away.

"You are very cautious. That is good. You'll need that."

"What?"

"Sarah, what I'm offering to do for you is indeed very generous, but I won't pretend that what I'm about to ask for in return would not be equally, maybe even more, generous of you." He leaned forward and steepled his hands. His crimped, curly locks obscured his eyes from her, something that had her leaning towards him subconsciously. "To put it plainly my dear...I need a bride."

"What?" was her immediate response. She stared at him, no, gaped, her brow drawing into a look that was akin to horror. Whatever it was she might have imagined he'd ask for, it sure as hell wasn't that. "You want me to marry you?"

"Hm? Oh heavens no!" he was quick to say. He turned back to her and couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face after seeing the abhorred reaction she was giving him. "No, it is my master I wish you to marry."

This time Sarah blinked. As if that clarification made it any better!

"What? What the hell? Why?" She drew back from him in alarm but it was not something he seemed surprised by.

"My master...is very stubborn. He is a prince, you see, and his father -the king of my land- has been trying to arrange a marriage for him for quite some time. However, His Highness refuses suitors left and right."

"So you're getting desperate enough to offer up humans? Is that it?"

"...Essentially, yes."

Sarah rose her head to the sky and rolled her eyes, splaying her hands and clenching them again in the effort not to freak the fuck out.

"Why...why does The King want his son to be married so badly?" she asked, finally getting a grip over the initial shock. The man eyed her carefully but otherwise seemed unaffected by her display. Almost like he was expecting it. _Good_ , she thought. Maybe that meant it was an appropriate reaction to have.

"Well...I suppose it is within your right to know. The King only has one son. Additionally, there are currently several families making a quick climb to power. He wishes to reinforce his family's claim to the throne by strengthening the bloodline, by generation, as it were."

"So he wants grand-kids. That's it? And he doesn't care with whom they are conceived?" she asked, only slightly exasperated. So in less elegant terms, she was being pimped out? For real?

"There are other incentives...various political factors that have led us to our current, as you say, desperation; but as long as they are legitimate by rite of marriage, yes. That is the gist."

"Jesus…"

"I understand it is a lot to consider."

"Why me?"

The man paused this time. It was clear this was quickly becoming overwhelming for her. His eyes flickered away briefly. If only she knew the half of it...

"Because you were easy to find. And of course, I have something you need," he said, plainly.

"I...I don't know...that's...that's crazy," she said, shaking her head and waving him off. Her? Marry a fae prince? What the fuck? As if she didn't have enough on her plate already.

"I understand this would not solve _all_ of your problems. You would no longer be able to attend school, of course. You would also be leaving behind the reality you know. But...you would be gaining a new infinite reality. You would become a princess, later even a queen. But, more importantly, your father will be saved. Your family's well-being would be preserved, the well-being of your younger brother." The man's words rang like lewd temptations in her ears. In truth it helped calm her. That was true, wasn't it? She'd be saving her father...

"And you can promise me that?" she asked, a slight waver to her voice.

"The word of a fae is sacred."

"What about...what about when I'm gone? Won't I have gone missing? Won't they be distressed that way?"

"When a creature of your world slips into ours, it is as if their existence itself shifts dimensions. Should you accept my offer and pass into the Underground with me, your identity in this plane will cease to exist. Your family will not mourn you, for they will have never known you to exist." While the man thought such words would bring her ease, he found her actual reaction to be of great sadness. He could see her frowning through her hair. Unexpectedly...he found himself frowning as well. "Sarah...I admit I was skeptical when coming to this realm, but after speaking with you I believe you to be a fine candidate. You may not have pedigree but there is something of substance to you, that is why I will sweeten my end of the deal." and to that she peered up. " Whether or not you are presented by The King, it is still The Prince's decision to accept you. All I ask is that you journey with me, make an honest attempt. If The Prince should accept you, then you will uphold your responsibilities with nobility. If however he should reject you, I will return you to this place without constraint." He almost smiled when her eyebrows rose high with hope.

"What? But...my existence?"

"Surely you must realize from the last time you crossed worlds? Once you re-enter this realm, your existence shall return with you. It will be as if you never left. If he refuses you, I will return you here and, upon my honor, even still I shall uphold my promise to heal and protect your family -as a true fairy godmother should. " Now her eyes went wide. Yes, he was making this deal irresistible. He had to. Little did she gather just how _desperate_ they were... His eyes flickered down and became humble, and she realized...this man was different from _him_. "I will do all of that for you. That is how much faith I am putting in you."

Sarah hesitated before responding. Somewhere along the line it seemed like she'd gained the upper hand. She was the one groveling but a moment ago and yet here this man was, his head bowed to her and offering her something she never would have even dreamed of. It was too much. Too sudden. She didn't...know what to say.

"The King...he's really okay with his only son marrying a human? That his heirs will be half human?"

"It may be an...unconventional union, but certainly not unheard of. My kind have often taken human partners in the past. As for your offspring, anything born in my world will be born with magic. Simply put, even though you are human, your children will be pure fae."

"Oh…." and her eyes lowered to the ground. Then they quickly sprang back up again. "This _king_. It's not...the King of Goblins, is it?" She stared at him worriedly, a look that only twitched in confusion when he suddenly laughed.

"Goblins? Oh, gods, no. No, my king is a ruler of fae."

With an inward sigh of relief, Sarah looked away. At least there was that. That brief flare of passion soon faded from her expression, however, and she looked uncertain once more. "I...I still don't…"

"Of course I do not expect an answer immediately," he interjected, earning back her stare. "Go, take your time. Take several days if you wish. When you have decided, come back to this place and call for me. I shall be here."

The man stood and stepped away from her, straightening up his jacket as if preparing to leave. Sarah became alarmed. This was all much too sudden.

"Wha...What am I to call you by?" she asked. The man glanced down to her with a smile.

"It's about time you asked. Lochlan. My name is Lochlan," he said and turned his back to her. "I really do have high hopes for you. I look forward to our next meeting, Sarah. Until then."

He waved as he walked into the night, and she found herself blinking like a fool when he seamlessly became one with it. She gripped the chains of the swing tightly and bit her lip. This was crazy. This was totally insane. She thought she'd put the Underground behind her for good. Could she really go back? Could she trust his word? Who was this man she was to marry? What kind of devil...would he be?

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Hello all. So, I've been in long debate over when to start posting this story. It's been my side project for a while now whenever I'm feeling meh with ATHAM. I have several chapters banked, so I figured what the hell. ATHAM is still my priority, as I'd like to get that finished before I really commit to something new, so I can't say how regularly this story will be updated. But...who knows, maybe I'll find a groove and this one will be updated semi-frequently as well. (I think that is part of why I'm finally posting this. It might make me feel more compelled to work on it.)
> 
> Some notes on this brand-spanking-new story...
> 
> Those who are familiar with my work know that I try to tackle a different tone or trope with each story I write. I've got the fluff, the hurt/comfort, and the Dark J bdsm. I'm not really sure how I'd characterize this one...but definitely different. For those who were put off by the more controversial content in ATHAM, this will not be like that. While I believe Canon Jareth always has a bit of darkness, I do not consider the Jareth in this story to be a Dark Jareth. I would label him as "deeply troubled" lol. With that said, there are some darker, more serious thematic elements that will come into play at certain points, so I'll leave labeling the true tone of the story up to you.
> 
> I'm also excited to be writing a different kind of Sarah than I'm used to in ATHAM -one who is already mature, strong, and open-minded. We can all agree that Sarah is a bit of a brat, but gods it gets exhausting lol. I'm very much looking forward to creating a new dynamic between the two after working solely on ATHAM for so many years.
> 
> I did a digital painting a while ago depicting a very important moment in this story (it's kind of terrifying, really). If you'd like, you can view it on my insta under studio DarkBloom. The painting is titled 'Unseelie' (as if the title of the story isn't spoiler enough). My print shop is also up and running (yay!) so you can now buy prints and originals of all my Labyrinth and Bowie art. You can check out what's available at etsy dot com/shop/studiodarkbloom
> 
> I hope you enjoy this tale. At the very least, you know there's going to be a lot of sex. ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading -FGBX


	2. Chapter 2

"I...I have been thinking...If Your Majesty would be willing to listen, I may have a suggestion."

There was a bit of a stammer to the young man's voice, he turned to face him with a raised brow.

"Proceed."

"...I heard a rumor once, of a girl some time ago. One that he might have fancied."

"Fancied? There are many he's fancied," he interrupted, laughing as he did so. The young man looked to the floor again, contemplation ridden deep into his brow.

"Yes but- forgive me for being forward- there was something peculiar about this rumor. If we are to make any progress in this endeavor...I believe it is time for more unconventional measures to be considered."

" _Unconventional_? How?"

"She is of no rank, firstly. No namesake either."

"A peasant?"

"Yes, but...that is not the concern." He saw the lad's eyes peer up, searching for his reprieve before continuing. He gave him a nod. If ever there was a time to entertain something so ludicrous, it was now. "She...they say she is a human."

"What?"

"He let her live, you see. One of his toys in that maze. She should be of a proper age. Is that not...something to investigate?"

His companion stared up at him openly, and he realized that his own expression had become considerably more livid. What in the world? A human peasant?

"Your suggestion is quite audacious..." he said, with warning. This was...highly unprecedented. Could he really allow such a thing?

"Forgive me. I know it is quite...unusual, but then again so is this instance. I simply thought-"

"That we've come to such a point?" he finished. The man shut his mouth tightly. "That is your thinking, yes?"

"Sire, I would never-"

"No. Don't," he interrupted again, raising a hand to calm him as he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. "You are right. I have no right to take offense after allowing things to have come so far." There was silence perturbed, weighed heavily by the decision to be made. A human bride...was that really what it'd come to? "Have you no others?" he asked. The man shook his head.

"No, Sire." There was clear affirmation in his response, and The King sighed in reaction to it. T'was a dark night indeed and a bleak day to follow...

"Very well then. I will trust you. Find her. _I_ will judge if she is worthy."

"Of course, Sire. I shall pray the gods shine favorably upon us."

He bowed and left quickly after that. The King stood alone then, his own head lowered under a dismal night sky. He had not the heart to speak it, he had not the strength to say it at all. _Pray indeed, young one, pray with earnest. Pray that time would not dwindle in a place where it yet stood, that things would not yet die where they did not live. Pray for the wicked, the restless, and the livid. Pray for them all_ , he thought. Pray for _him_ especially; for there are very few prayers, even none at all, for those who are damned.

* * *

Chapter 2, Threshold

* * *

_Beep...Beep...Beep…_

The sound of the heart monitor on the cart beside her had become jarring to Sarah's ears. It'd been silent for a couple hours now. She was the only one there. Well, there was of course her father in the bed beside her, her father who'd lapsed into a coma just two days prior.

It was strange. She felt hollow sitting beside him, like he was not the only one devoid of consciousness. She'd shed tears when it first happened. Of course, she wasn't there for it. They said he probably wouldn't wake up from this one...she'd never even gotten to say goodbye.

She hadn't left his side since. Instead she wondered what he would think about the decision she had yet to make. She imagined he would tell her to follow her heart, to do what she thought was right for her rather than for others.

She punished herself greatly. Like she'd told Lochlan, there was so much time she'd wasted fretting when she could have been here. Maybe then she would have had the chance. Maybe if she was at the hospital that night, instead of spilling her guts to a fae, she could have said her goodbyes. She felt so guilty. She hoped that he would wake up, but it was false. She already knew of a way to save him, and yet she was abstaining. How much time did he have left to wait on her? Could the fae bring back the dead?

She brushed a stray tear from her eye and sniffled. It'd been nearly three days since Lochlan had conveyed his terms. Three days...would he still be waiting? Had she taken too long? She was just so afraid, afraid of all of this. How would she know he kept his bargain if she never returned? What if the man she was supposed to marry was a monster? Cruel? Abusive? What if he only used her as was her actual purpose? She had so many questions, yet...were any of those possibilities worth more than the man suffering next to her? Or the guilt she would suffer if she said no? She wanted to ease her conscience by playing the martyr, but even she knew better. If she made this decision it would be for selfish reasons: because she was afraid, because she was weak, because she wanted something other than this. The excuse of pursuing an education was now utterly irrelevant.

She glanced over sharply at the sound of the door suddenly opening. She had by no means been crying, but still her red cheeks and pouting lips were something she was too proud to let anyone see. She heard the clicking of Karen's heels moving quickly across the floor, and turned back in slight surprise at the fact that she was actually here. She never liked to visit when things got bad. She didn't like to face it. It was almost alien of her, the way she hunkered down and grasped his hand across the bed from her.

"How is he doing?" she asked. Sarah's eyes drifted away absently.

"The same."

She cringed a little at the sound of Karen's pitiful whimper, dotting her running mascara with a tissue.

"I see. Well, at least he's not worse."

"He's in a coma, Karen. It doesn't get much worse than that."

Karen was silent at first, her gaze and her smile forced as she stared at her husband.

"I always said you had your father's bluntness. Look, doesn't he look like he's sleeping so peacefully? Do you suppose he's in any pain?"

"I doubt it. The doctors said he doesn't feel anything now." Was she being cruel on purpose? She knew the answer was yes. It was wrong of her to torture Karen like this, but she couldn't stop the bitterness. Lochlan was right. He said he sensed resentment looming over this family. It probably all stemmed from her… "Where's Toby?" she asked.

"At a playdate. I'm picking him up around four."

Sarah's eyes lowered again.

"He hasn't been to see him in over a week. Don't you think he'd want to see his father?"

"Yes...just...not right now. It's not a good time…"

"When will be a good time, Karen? When he wakes up? When he's dead?"

"Sarah!" Karen interjected, in a quibbling shriek of sorts. Her eyes closed tight and the hand holding her handkerchief rose in a plea to cease. "I know you're upset with me. We are all going through a lot. But please, not now."

For once Sarah actually listened. Instead of retorting, she merely stomped to her feet and stormed out the door. This was ridiculous. Toby may be young but their father had been asking for him for days before he fell unconscious. Toby was so confused. Karen refused to explain anything to him. She was claiming to be a parent, but all she was doing was forcing her own denial unto him. It infuriated Sarah like nothing else.

She left the hospital. It was about mid-day. She had a shift in the afternoon, but to hell with it all. She drove back to the park instead, to the place she should be more wary in approaching. She stormed her way to the swing and spun in a circle as she pulled on her hair. She was angry.

She knew she was being irrational. She needed to calm down and think clearly but God, it only took one wrong word from Karen to royally set her off these days.

She closed her eyes and pressed a palm to her forehead. _Okay deep breath. Deep breath…_

"Lochlan? Are you there?" she called out, with one hand on her hip and the other against her temple. She was sure to give herself a migraine over this...All she hoped was that she wouldn't regret it.

"Ah. Sarah, fancy meeting you here."

She spun around on a dime to find him sitting in the swing behind her. She looked around frantically. It was the middle of the day. What if other people saw him?

"Have you been there this whole time?" she asked. The man called Lochlan stood and approached her.

"No. You summoned me here. Did you not realize?" he asked, almost laughing as he paced around her. Sarah's furrowed brow furrowed harder, and she followed him.

"Summon?"

"You didn't think I was going to dwell in this forest indefinitely, did you?" he asked. Sarah just stared. Well, putting it like that…

"No...I just…"

"Granted, three days is no time at all. I half expected to be waiting far longer than that," he interrupted. Sarah peered up.

"Well, things have changed. I no longer have the time to dawdle...I guess," she said, quickly looking back to the ground. Lochlan stopped his pacing and looked her up and down.

"Is that so...Have you made your decision then?"

Sarah nodded. Man, she'd driven down here with such resolve, but now her feet were getting colder and colder.

"I think I have. ...I...have a lot of questions, you know."

"Yes, I imagine so."

"I have a lot of concerns too."

"Even more, I presume."

She stared up at him, hoping to find a trace of sincerity on his face, but she just couldn't tell.

"This man you want me to marry...this prince...if he doesn't like me, you'll take me back? Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"How...how will I know you've actually healed my father?"

"I could show you through a scryer, but ultimately it will be up to you whether or not to believe it."

Sarah lowered her head. That was true, wasn't it? The fae had the ability to create illusions...there would be little tell whether or not it was a lie. All of this...it could all be a huge bluff. A lie.

"I know that expression. And that is precisely why I told you to take your time in deciding. It is good that you are so guarded. It means you are strong. However, it is a fact that the fae cannot lie when staking a contract. Where we give our word we stake our very souls. I have promised to do these things for you. Perhaps one day you will understand the gravity of such a statement."

Sarah paused for a moment. She really had no grounds to believe any of it, and yet...

"I came here just now...with the intention of saying yes. I can't...I just can't let Toby be without a father. He...he never even got to say goodbye. What if he dies, and Toby….I...and I never got to say goodbye either. If I do this, there's a chance we might be a family again. If I do this, at the very least Toby will have both his parents back. I want him to be happy more than anything else and I-I don't want my father to die!" Her shoulders were starting to shake and she forced her gaze to the ground to prevent the release of tears. This was pathetic of her. She needed to be strong. To show resolve. If she acted like this, beings like Lochlan would only take advantage of her.

She jumped at the feeling of a hand pressing against the back of her head, and became even more startled when that hand pulled her into his chest.

"Your integrity is admirable and...if I were not in such a position, it would be enough to sway even this cold fae heart." He pulled away from her and cupped the side of her face to bring their gazes together. "However, I am in such a position. I am...merely a messenger. I came to you with a need just as you have come to me. It would be within my capability to heal the afflictions upon this reality of yours, to return you there without cost, but it is not within my authority. In order for me to help you...I need you to come with me, Sarah. Will you do that?"

Sarah's blurry eyes beamed up at him, so desperate and so tired. This stranger had showed her more compassion in the past ten minutes than she'd felt in months. Perhaps it wasn't rational, perhaps she wasn't thinking straight. Still, she bit her lip as she nodded her head yes, then closed her eyes as tears fell, silently of course, and she pressed the side of her face back against his chest.

* * *

_"Go, take the night to say your farewells. Pack a bag meant to travel. Some clothes, provisions, but mostly food. Pack a fair amount of food. It will be a few days' journey to our destination."_

Sarah was so overwhelmed, she'd completely forgotten to ask Lochlan the millions of questions she'd told herself she needed to know. Now she found herself back at home, doing as he'd said and packing a bag. In the back of her mind she was confused. If he could appear in random places why would the journey be so long? What...what kind of things should she bring? Just the essentials? Should she bother with mementos? She was supposed to meet him the following night, right at sunset. She had to admit, he was being awfully accommodating all things considered…

Actually, that was what worried her most. He was being considerate. Too considerate for the reputation of his kind. It made her suspicious, like he was hiding something important. He said the fae didn't lie, but that didn't mean they didn't omit the truth. That didn't mean they didn't keep secrets. Her next priority needed to be finding out all she could about the situation she was walking into…

"Sarah! Sarah!"

Sarah jumped at the sound of Karen screaming from down the hall. She turned and burst through the door.

"What? Karen, what's going on?" she yelled back. Storming down the hallway, Karen met her at the top of the stairs. She was confused as to why she had Toby in her arms, already dressed as if to go…

"The hospital just called. Sarah, he's awake. Your father's awake!"

"W-what?"

The drive to the hospital was swift but silent. Sarah, deeply unnerved, skeptical even, stared straight ahead with worry. Karen, however, could do little to contain her excitement. Oh, the mixed signals this must be sending poor Toby.

Like a stampede, Karen led the way to their father's room. It was well past visiting hours, but the doctor there was a friend and let them come whenever they wanted. Sarah lagged behind as Karen threw open the door.

Indeed her father was awake. He was groggy, weak, but still he held up open arms as Karen and Toby threw themselves at him. Like a twilight zone, Sarah failed to believe. Was this...was this for real? Was this Lochlan's doing? How...what should she do?!

"I didn't even realize I was asleep. I woke up an hour ago and all the nurses looked so shocked! They said I've been in a coma for days!"

She could hear her father talking, hear the sound of his voice, raspy but still his, clear as day. Was this...was this magic?

"To be honest, I don't know how it's possible." She darted her head to the side to see her father's doctor looming over her shoulder. He looked about as happy and as skeptical as she did. "When we told you our projection was about five weeks, that didn't include the probability of a coma. I believe we also told you if that happened his time frame narrowed considerably." Ah, so it seemed he was indeed talking to her. She looked away from him and back to her family.

"Yeah...how...why did he wake up?" she asked.

"I don't know. How, if, and when some patients come out of comas is still a total mystery to us. All I know is that several hours ago your father's vitals started improving. We're of course running tests, but his physical lividity has improved greatly already. With any luck, perhaps treatment is finally starting to work."

"Do you really believe that?" she asked. The doctor peered down to her with a smile, like that was a question he was so often asked.

"No. Not at all. It's a very real possibility that this is just a blip, that his case will resume and worsen, so I don't want to get your hopes up. But, with any hope at all I'd say we're looking at an honest miracle." Sarah's eyes widened as the doctor glanced down to his chart. "To be completely frank Sarah, I didn't think he was going to survive the night. Whatever changed...we should all be thankful for it." He gestured to the happy scene before her and then turned to walk away. Sarah just stood in the doorway. She was stupefied. She really was just plain-

"Sarah! What are you doing over there? Come here already!"

* * *

That night was spent with much rejoicing. She completely forgot about packing, forgot about everything. Morning came, and so Karen took an exhausted Toby home to rest. It was just Sarah and her father now. They spent most of the day together, hanging out, acting as if nothing was unusual. Karen came back alone later that afternoon. The doctors had gotten back some of the lab results from the previous day and wanted her there.

Much to everyone's surprise, it wasn't a blip. The tests showed real improvement and, while they didn't want to jump the gun, were suddenly very hopeful for remission. They couldn't explain it. They had no idea, actually, not that it mattered to anyone. Everyone was so happy. The world was changing around her so drastically it left her numb. That night she would have to pay for this miracle. She'd have to leave it all behind, possibly for good. If Lochlan really was behind this...no, no she knew he was. She would be eternally grateful. She now realized, as bittersweet as it was, there was no price she could put on this moment, on the relief and joy it brought everyone.

The day passed far too quickly. Karen left, came back with Toby, and then left again, and all the while Sarah did her best to make the moments count.

"Dad?" Sarah asked. It'd been quiet for a while. It was getting later in the evening and the bustling hum of the day was lulling smoothly. Toby had fallen asleep in a chair. Her father had been drifting off as well, and while she knew he needed the rest, she was running out of time. Though Karen hadn't realized it, Sarah had taken a moment to say goodbye to her earlier when she'd left to fetch everyone fresh clothes. She'd said a few words to Toby, filled with all the love in the world, and squeezed him tight as she tucked him into his napping place. Now this was the only thing left, a moment she'd been putting off for as long as possible. She glanced out the window and gazed at the fading sun. It would be twilight soon. She needed to get a move on.

"Yeah sweetie?" Her father spoke in a mild groan as if waking from a deep sleep. She turned back to him and smiled at the way he stretched his arms.

"I know this isn't the best time, but I have to go soon."

"Oh, that's fine. You've been here since yesterday. Go home, get some rest," he said, and she cracked another grin at such innocent words. Her eyes lowered subconsciously, and she jolted at the feeling of his hand suddenly patting her back. "I know you've been dealing with a lot, taking care of your brother and everything. I know it's not fair to put all that on you. But something I want you to realize is that, even now, don't be afraid to do something for you. You spend so much time taking care of everyone else, it scares me to think that you spare no time to take care of yourself too." Sarah's eyes went wide with impending tears. She stared hard at the floor and kept herself angled starkly away from his gaze. Of course he would say something like that. Of fucking course. She fisted a hand in the sheets of his bed and forced it all away.

"I know. I'll try harder. I just want you to get better," she said, and that was all she could manage without her voice cracking. Apparently her act was convincing enough, or he was simply too worn to notice her tension, for he withdrew his hand and eased back into bed.

"I know. I love you, honey, and I'm proud of you- for everything."

And now she bit her lip.

"I love you too, Dad."

In her head, she imagined herself turning around to embrace him, to at the very least reach back and squeeze his hand. However, she couldn't bring herself to do it. She was overwrought, terrified, heartbroken. She looked sharply out the window at the falling sun and took a few seconds to get her shit together. She couldn't allow herself to regret this moment. She needed to buck up and move her damn body.

She managed to glance back, barely halfway, enough to see him but to keep her glistening eyes from being seen in return. She reached up, hesitated, but finally was able to grasp his hand. She was worried he would catch on to her fear by the tremble in her hand, but no such thing. He merely squeezed back, and smiled.

"I have to go now," she said.

"Okay."

"Get some rest, alright?"

"I will."

She was silent for a moment, then stood quickly and brushed a hand across her heated cheeks.

"I'll see you soon, okay?" she asked, taking one step away.

"You bet."

And with that, she spared one last glance around the room, at Toby and her father, and briskly walked out the door.

* * *

She drove back home to find the house empty. Apparently Karen had already left to return to the hospital. In a way, she was glad for the solitude. The silence helped her greatly. She finished packing, and counted her fingers as she checked everything on her list. Lochlan never said how long this "journey" would be, but he did seem to emphasize the need for food. She'd quickly rummaged through the kitchen for anything that wasn't perishable. Sadly, all she'd managed to gather was some fruit, enough bread and meat for a couple sandwiches, and some small snacks. That would be fine, right? Should she run to the store?

It was then, standing at the open fridge and scratching her head, that she realized the time. It was nearly 8:30 pm. It would be sunset soon. Feeling frazzled and out of time, she gave up on the groceries and headed out. It would be easiest to just get it over with, like ripping off a band-aid, she thought.

She drove to the park and waited where he'd told her at the spot between the trees. She was the only one there. The park officials would probably be making rounds soon, closing the gate and kicking out any straggling ne'er do wells. She began to grow antsy. How awkward would that be?

"Ah, so you're right on time. Wonderful."

She turned around to find Lochlan standing behind her. He had a smile on his face that showed his ease, relief even, to see her there.

"Yeah…" was all she said. He started to approach her with a familiarity that she didn't quite share.

"To be honest, I was a little worried," he said, smiling more broadly as he passed by her.

"Why?"

"Oh, not that you wouldn't show, if that's what you're thinking," he was quick to assure her. "No, I was merely worried about the timing. You see, I realized that what I consider twilight might be different than you, and timing is key."

He started walking towards the forest and she instinctively followed, readjusting the strap of her backpack as it hung from her shoulder.

"Why does that matter?"

They were nearing the treeline, and with the growing shadow she found herself starting to squint.

"Well…" Lochlan started, then paused, turning back to throw her a glance. "Perhaps I'll simply show you." He offered out a hand and she took it tentatively. He smiled again, a sly little smile, and turned back to lead her into the forest. "Watch your step," he said, taking the time to make sure she didn't trip and stumble as they ventured through the underbrush, and she was genuinely surprised that a fae could be so accommodating. It put her nerves at ease, at least for the time being.

"Um...how far are we going? I'm pretty sure the forest lets out to a highway soon…" she said, taking tall steps and pushing stray branches from her path. It was plenty dark now, but oddly enough the forest showed no sign of thinning. Lochlan smiled to himself.

"Don't worry, we're almost there."

"Wh-really? I thought you said this was a jour...ney…" Her speech came to a stop along with her feet as she spied on what lay ahead. Her hand, which had been gently seeking guidance in Lochlan's, now fell limply from his grasp, and she looked around with a wide-eyed stare.

It was a tree. No, it wasn't _just_ a tree. It was a massive, absolutely monstrous tree. Its trunk loomed over them, and as they approached she guessed it had to be at least ten feet wide. What the hell? Since when was there a tree this colossal in the park woods? Better question, shouldn't they be standing in the middle of a paved highway right now?!

"Something wrong?" Lochlan asked, tongue-in-cheek. Sarah skipped away from him to inspect the tree closer. Not only was it large, but it was tall too. So tall she could barely gauge the top. Moonlight shone brightly through its branches and by that did she realize the moon was even out, that at some point it had become the dead of night. She scrunched her brow as she reached out to touch its bark.

"What is this?"

"Rather than what...I believe it is more of a where."

Sarah turned back, bright-eyed, and started glancing all around.

"Where are we?"

"We're here...there...everywhere really."

There was a sense of mystery to Lochlan's slow reply, something curious that begged her attention. She turned around to face him directly.

"Wait, you mean we're in the Underground?" she asked. Lochlan shrugged and put his hands in his pockets.

"Eh, somewhat."

"Huh? What does that mean?"

Lochlan strode away and began to pace around the tree where two hitched horses were soon revealed.

"You see...to explain it simply...the barrier between our two worlds thins at twilight. It is much easier to walk over precisely at that moment. Think of this tree as...something like a road sign. It lets us know that we are crossing the threshold." She watched him unhitch the horses' reins, and only grew more confused.

"But...why does that matter? Couldn't you have simply teleported us over?" she asked. Lochlan paused and a humble grin spread across his face.

"Heh, I suppose you would expect that," he mumbled, but carried on before she could question it. "Sadly, no. Only beings with enough skill can transport themselves across planes at will. I, unfortunately for you, must either be summoned or travel the old fashioned way."

Sarah let go of some of her skepticism at his words and approached one of the horses, assuming it was meant for her.

"So...you have enough power to cure my father of cancer but not enough power to cross worlds?" she asked. That didn't seem quite right to her.

"Actually...no. Or rather, it was not my power that cured your father." Sarah peered up sharply at that, getting the grave sense that a whole lot of fine print was about to be aired.

"What?"

Rather than balking at her suspicion, it seemed Lochlan was rather anticipating the moment. He started rummaging through a saddle bag until a familiar crystal-like ball emerged in his grasp.

"Do you remember this?" he asked, and Sarah instinctively scowled. He smiled at the memories he could only imagine it brought her, and tossed it up in the air. "Think of these as conduits. Objects where we can store magic for later use. Incidentally, once magic is placed in here, it can be used by anyone."

"Meaning?" Sarah asked.

"Meaning that my prerogative was winning you over by whatever means necessary. The King gave me enough of his magic to ensure that. It was actually his power that saved your father and will ensure their longevity, not mine," he explained, something which had Sarah's brow softening. He peered over with a lopsided grin. "I told you, I'm merely a messenger."

"I see," she replied, pensively, giving in to stroke the horse's mane.

"Yes…" Lochlan said, though now his head tilted with concern. "Do not fret though. As I said, a fae must keep their word when making a contract. There was enough magic in that crystal to sustain my end of the bargain eternally, regardless of how this all ends. What's done is done."

"Well that's reassuring," she said, forcing a smile but her eyes stayed low. Lochlan had been purposefully avoiding it for her own sake, but her turmoil now showed clearly on her face. It was not particularly in his nature to empathize. Should he just continue distracting her?

"Have you ever ridden a horse before?" he asked, changing the subject. Sarah peered up and blanched.

"Uh, no actually. Well, when I was young, but I can't say I know how to ride," she explained.

"Not to worry. I figured as much," he said and led the horse meant for her out into the open. "This one will simply follow behind me. All you have to do is maintain balance. Think you can manage?"

"Um, yeah."

He almost snickered at the look of bewilderment she was giving the saddle as she tried to process how exactly to even mount it. He stepped towards her and offered a hand.

"Here, grab on and I'll help you up," he said, and hoisted her up in a manner that was as non-awkward as she could make it. Seriously, this guy was so nice. She just couldn't trust it. She watched as Lochlan mounted his own steed, and in the next moment they were trotting off.

For some reason, she was surprised by how slow they were moving.

"So um, how long will this journey be? Where are we even going?" she asked, feeling awkward as the sway of the horse's gait had her rocking side to side.

"About four or five days-"

"What?!" Sarah interjected, then quickly bit her tongue when he peered back towards her.

"It will be about a day and a half to get to the checkpoint, from there you'll take a day to rest, and then it's about another two days by boat to my master's castle," he explained. Sarah's look didn't relax any.

"Checkpoint?"

"Yes. You see, my master -The Prince- is the leader of his own principality. The capital, of my king's nation that is, is significantly farther away. He, however, wishes to meet you prior to your possible engagement. So he will be receiving us at a military outpost nearby."

And now, for a myriad of reasons, Sarah's heart sank to the pit of her stomach.

"You mean...I have to be interviewed? By The King?" She sounded shocked by her own words even though she'd just plainly answered her own question. She'd been so wrapped up in her own issues she hadn't even stopped to process the gravity of her commitment, or rather the pressure it put her under. God, she was just some random human who had to somehow impress a king of fae?

Lochlan laughed and slowed his horse so they both strode together.

"Sarah, you sound positively terrified. Did you not think you would be meeting The King?" he asked teasingly. The pale look on Sarah's face spoke for itself, and to that he did laugh. "Heh, relax. All things considered, you're handling this extremely well. I commend you, really. I won't say that meeting His Majesty will not be intimidating, but everything will be fine. It may be unconventional and he may not like it, but even he is humble enough to acknowledge that we need you."

"Wait, he doesn't like it? You told me it was normal!" Sarah suddenly proclaimed. "So not only do I have to be evaluated as being good enough for his son, I have to go in knowing he's already frowning on the whole thing?" she asked him, incredulously. Lochlan just stared at her for a moment, then scratched his head.

"Hm, I guess when you phrase it like that, it does seem a bit daunting. But like I said, we came to you. Just act polite and confident. No pressure."

She just gaped.

"No pressure. Yeah. Gotcha," she muttered and turned to face straight ahead. Again, Lochlan smiled to himself. She was already taking this seriously. It was so very surprising. He could only wonder how she would react, how they would both react, once they finally saw each other once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- So, as I said, I have a few chapters already written and I realized I have no real reason for not posting them haha. I just finished a commission that I wasn't feeling particularly interested in, so I guess posting this is a treat for both you and me. 
> 
> P.S. That "massive tree" is Yggdrasil -the world tree from Norse mythology. I thought it would be neat to use it as the marker between dimensions. So, for those of you who fancy Norse myth, enjoy the Easter egg =P


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

**Chapter 3, The Trick**

* * *

To Sarah's surprise, the first leg of the journey lasted quite some time, some several odd hours she imagined; though, eventually, it was decided to stop and set up camp for the remainder of the night. Lochlan had hitched the horses, started a fire and, again much to Sarah's surprise, suspicion, and likewise comfort, had provided her with a sleeping mat and blanket for her convenience -things she hadn't even thought of.

"I hope tonight's accommodations aren't too rugged for your liking," he said, shaking out his own mat and laying it gently on the ground opposite the fire. Sarah sat cross-legged as she watched him.

"No, this is fine. Although I've never slept outside before -without a tent I mean."

"Oh, don't fret. Only a few spiders will spin webs in your ears." He smiled as he spoke, which had Sarah smiling in return. For only knowing him a few hours, she thought she might actually like this Lochlan. He seemed so normal...compared to the other fae she'd met.

"God, I hope not," she chuckled, eyeing him curiously as he set a pot atop the fire, and then watched him in silence for a few minutes as he poured in some kind of stew to be reheated.

"I hope you don't think me rude, but I shan't offer you some," he said, which caught her off guard.

"Huh?"

"The food. It would be unwise for you to share in it. I do hope you remembered to pack provisions?" She blinked at him a bit confusedly, then turned to rummage through her backpack. She _was_ in fact starting to get hungry by that point and pulled out one of her sandwiches.

"Um, yeah, I remembered…" she said, her voice tapering off a bit. She didn't find what he'd said to be rude necessarily, but it was kind of odd. Perhaps he could sense the skepticism on the end of her tongue, for he stopped what he was doing and peered up to her. Her eyes were looking away as she took a large bite of her sandwich.

"I would also urge you to keep as much for yourself as possible."

"Oh?" she asked, taking another big bite. Lochlan raised a brow at her.

"Yes...whatever it is you packed in that bag, don't forget it has to last you four or five days."

And then Sarah's jaw stopped mid-chew.

"Um...I mean...We're going to an outpost right? Won't they have food there?" she asked, trying not to sound too worried as she thought over the 2 sandwiches and 3 apples she still had left…

"Yes, but just as with this here, it is imperative that you don't eat any of it," he said, with a dry seriousness that had her feeling even more alarmed.

"What? Why?" she asked, highly considering simply putting the remainder of her sandwich away. A spark popped loudly as Lochlan shifted a log, and the gradual waft of his stew soon followed.

"Well, you see, for whatever reason, once you ingest food grown in our world you may never again return to yours," he said, plainly. Sarah's mouth dropped open a little. "Did you not know? Hm, I thought it to be common knowledge by now."

"Wh...but…"

"So, like I told you before, if The Prince were to reject you and I were to fulfill my promise to return you Aboveground, it would be wholly impossible should you ingest any amount of food from here. Hence why I urged you to pack plenty of your own."

"But...But I have eaten food from here before."

Now it was Lochlan's turn to look surprised. He lowered his ladle into the pot.

"Really? What was it?" he asked, far too intrigued for her to be comforted. She lowered her sandwich and clung to it like a safeguard.

"Um, a peach. I ate one of those and...I obviously returned home just fine."

Lochlan stared at her, blinking repeatedly, and then a shadow of dismissal moved across his face.

"Impossible," he stated, with an unwavering stare. Sarah was about to rebut him but he continued. "What you ingested, whatever it was, was something other than natural. After you ate it, did anything happen?" he asked, and Sarah gaped.

"Um ...yeah. Some really weird...trippy...spell stuff happened...I guess." Honestly? She was too embarrassed to say anything more than that. She looked away and the darkness of the night hid her shame.

"Hm, well then, that's your answer. It was spelled, or rather, it _was_ a spell. If it were an actual fruit grown in this realm there would have been no way, with magic or otherwise, for you to return home. Therefore...I can only imagine it was a form of conduit, like a crystal only a different shape and texture. Yes, that makes sense."

Sarah's brow furrowed hard and her eyes lowered to the ground. Lochlan had resumed the preparation of his meal, pouring out some of the stew into a wooden bowl.

"Hm...maybe…Well, you would know more about it than me," she said, accepting this revelation with a sense of worry.

"May I ask what happened?" Sarah blinked up to find him staring at her. She didn't respond right away, so he continued. "During the spell, I mean." Sarah's nails tightened into her sandwich just slightly.

"Um...to be honest I'd rather not talk about it…" she said, and to such a sad expression did Lochlan find himself tilting his head.

"No matter. It was simple curiosity. Are you warm enough?" he asked, again shifting direction. Sarah took a deep breath and looked toward the moon.

"Yes. It's actually a pretty warm night."

"Indeed, I fancy the new season far better than the last."

Sarah looked over to him, intrigued by his statement, to find him now rummaging through one of his satchels. In a way his normalcy felt surreal. This man behaved so casually towards her, and yet they were in a literal twilight zone.

"Um, Lochlan?" she asked and he peered over. "What can you tell me about this prince?"

"A fair amount I suppose. I have been his retainer for many years."

"Well...what is he like? His personality," she asked. Her expression was open, perhaps letting down her guard for just a moment. If she hadn't, she would have caught the glimmer in his eye and the unnerving flash of a smirk.

"He…" he started, and his mouth steadily spread into a grin. "He is unlike most. He is old, and young, lively but...pensive. He can behave quite rashly at times, and yet at others far too calculating. I won't hide it from you, he can have quite the temper. Though it is my hope that your presence will dissuade him from it."

Sarah worried her brow and gave in to put away the rest of her sandwich. She didn't like that description very much. Lochlan on the other hand, felt no hesitation and was already making short work of his own meal.

"Um...go on?"

Lochlan saw the unease building within her and he shrugged to himself as he turned towards the fire. Oh, how to put this…

"Well, he was once very cheerful, carefree even-"

"Once?"

"Yes...He is very work-oriented now. He...is a researcher of sorts, ever striving to hone his magic. On that note, he is also very powerful...very powerful."

"I see...what do you mean he is both young and old?" she asked.

"He is temperamental, often childlike in his fickleness it seems to me. I suppose...to me I see it as glimpses of his former self breaking through that soured current disposition of his. Ever the optimist I try to be. I would quite like for more of it really. I've known him to be fine company. Though lately his spirits have seemed to age beyond his years. It's made the castle quite dreary. You have a nice spark however; I'm sure you'll liven the place up in no time."

He spoke with the sense of optimism he'd just mentioned, as if registering none of the warning signs Sarah was already fretting against. Her posture was starting to grow tense. To her, he wasn't painting his prince a very flattering portrait.

"What does he do for fun?" she asked, trying to lighten her worry. Lochlan didn't pick up on her anxiety this time and prattled on.

"Currently? I'm not entirely sure," he said, with a light chuckle. Now that had Sarah's expression gaping. "I'm not often privy to how he spends his personal time. He keeps himself isolated usually. Although...I do spy him taking walks around the grounds. He's very nature-oriented as well. Always testing its limits. In the past, however, he did a great many things. I'm sure he still enjoys them, he simply does not allow himself to enjoy them." Contrary to Lachlan's ease, Sarah's brow only knitted further.

"Why? You make it sound like he's...in the midst of depression or something," she asked. Again, Lochlan chuckled.

"Oh, I suppose you're quite right. Though forgive me, he is not as melancholy as I seem to have described. It is his work, you see. It is very important to him and requires a great deal of focus. What I should have said is he views other such activities as distraction."

"Charming," Sarah said, sarcastically almost. Lochlan peered over with a sly eye.

"Would you like to know some other things? Perhaps more familiar to you?" he asked. By now she'd slumped forward with her chin resting in the palm of her hand. She looked at him and raised a brow. "He likes games," he said, leaning in slightly as if it were a secret. "For being such a royal grump, he has quite the mischievous side. Well, I suppose you could say the same for many of my kind."

"It seems like you're describing two completely different people," she said. Lochlan shrugged.

"I suppose...in a way I am. People who live as long as we do are allowed to develop rather complex personalities. Though, I think you'll have a better understanding once you meet with him."

"Hm...What's his name?"

"Oh, I cannot tell you that."

"Why?"

"As you've learned, a name is a very powerful thing. If given to the wrong person it could be used against us. It is very poor manners for a fae to reveal another's name. He must offer it to you himself." Sarah pondered that a moment. It made sense in a way. Simply saying Lochlan's name had summoned him directly from another dimension, which had her wondering what other, perhaps nefarious, things could also be done with it.

"...Oh. Okay," was all she chose to say, and instead shifted directions. "Well...can you tell me what he looks like?" Lochlan smiled again.

"Yes. Though, I doubt my rendition would do him justice. You already know what he looks like."

Sarah drew back subconsciously, her chin slowly rising from the palm of her hand

"How…?"

"Well, simply put, I do believe you've met." Lochlan was looking at the fire and she knew it was on purpose. He didn't want to meet her in the eye and she had a grave, sinking feeling as to why.

"Wha...what are you talking about?"

"I thought my depiction would reveal it to you more delicately, though I've seemed to do no justice there either. Perhaps he was cruel to you? Or, better yet, kind?" He was shrugging his shoulders, almost as if he was talking to himself rather than her. His tone was completely candid while Sarah was fighting a shiver from running down her spine. She sat up straight and glared straight at him.

"Please...please tell me...for the love of God, tell me the man you want me to marry isn't Jareth."

Lochlan peered up with a furrowed brow.

"You know his name?"

Sarah was quiet for a moment, perhaps shocked, though deep down she knew she really shouldn't be. A surge of emotion, possibly panic or fear, came as a torrent bubbling upward from the pit of her stomach.

"Y-you're kidding me," she stammered, then lurched forward almost to her feet. "Of course I know his name! You-you liar! You said you weren't here because of what happened before!"

"No...I said _not necessarily_ ," Lochlan said, raising a hand to halt her outburst. "His Highness did not send for you. In fact, he has no idea you are to be presented before him. Me choosing you was not solely dependent on your past, though I do think it a beneficial trait." Clearly he thought such rationale would be enough to vacate him of his treachery. Sarah's eyes burned wide.

"Beneficial? You said you don't know the details of what happened-"

"Indeed I do not."

"Well if you did, you'd know there's no way in Hell he'd want to marry me," she said, with a raised voice -something to which Lochlan seemed unaffected.

"In that case, I don't see what the problem is. If he rejects you, then you get to go home. This then is the best possible turn of events for you, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes but-"

"If you're concerned he may seek some form of retribution, don't be. You will have The King's protection," he assured her, which only had Sarah shaking her head in distress.

"Well- what if-what if he says yes!?" she cried out. Lochlan shrugged.

"Then you will be wed. That is the bargain you agreed to."

Somehow, perhaps in response to Lochlan's words or not, Sarah felt some of the fire leave her spirits and she calmed down. She was silent for a moment as she collected herself, and then shook her head again.

"But...I thought Jareth was a king? The King of Goblins…" This didn't make any sense. It was too much. And yet, did it really matter?

"Hmm...a king? Is that what you were asking about earlier? Forgive me for the misunderstanding, but no. Perhaps those creatures granted him that title some years ago; but alas, in the eyes of our own kind, he is but a prince. I did mention he lords over a principality, no? That is the place you visited," he explained. Sarah stared down at the ground.

"The Goblin Kingdom?"

"Is that what they're calling it? Heavens, how unimaginative. Yes I suppose it is. It's real name however is not that."

Sarah just kept shaking her head.

"What? What is it called then?" she asked, as if that question, in comparison to any other, mattered at all. Lochlan tilted his head and pursed his lips.

"Hm...I'm not sure it has an official name," he said, his eyes roaming vacantly between the flames. "However, it is on the Isle of Faengsel. Perhaps we should call it that."

Sarah rolled back to sit on her butt, and huffed. Lochlan's unwavering sense of nonchalance was having its desired effect. She too stared into the fire, her residual tension lulling into worried hands that curled in the dirt at her sides.

"This is insane," she mumbled. Lochlan peered over at her discreetly. She looked bemused.

"Quite possibly."

He was nervous of how she would react once learning the identity of her intended. And while she was quite clearly unnerved, he was relieved and grateful she had not panicked, had not run away screaming. He had half-expected that. Jareth had let her go and she was less than traumatized from the experience. It had him wondering what exactly _had_ gone on between the two.

"So, tomorrow I have to meet Jareth's father? And after that I have to stand in front of Jareth himself and effectively ask him to marry me?" she asked, beside herself. This was ludicrous. There was no way he would say yes to her. Why the hell would he? She wanted to be hopeful, to assure herself that by the week's end she'd be back in her own world rejoicing with her family. She was, however, not so naive. Lochlan had promised The King's protection...but what did that really mean?

"Precisely." With a deep rooted scowl, Sarah zipped up her backpack in a rough gesture. "Are you not going to eat?" he asked. Sarah scoffed, cracking a disingenuous smirk as she did so.

"I've pretty much lost my appetite, frankly. That's probably for the best anyway. I didn't pack enough food to last five days," she explained, reaching instead for a bottle of water. She'd packed three of those...was it not safe to drink anything in the Underground either?

"I see. Forgive me if I did not make myself clear before."

Sarah shrugged, waving him off as she took another swig.

"Hey, what's done is done. Right?" She put the cap back on the bottle and tucked it into its holster on the side of her backpack. "So that's the reason then? The real reason you came to me? Jareth doesn't want to get married and you figured you'd take a long shot on a human he once tormented? Did you think our sense of familiarity would make a difference?" she asked. Lochlan blinked.

"Well, yes, actually," he admitted. Sarah laughed again, a weak sound, stifled behind consternation.

"Well, I could have shed some light on this vastly ill-conceived plan of yours. We have no familiarity. We did not meet or part on friendly terms. I doubt he'll have any interest in me, if he even remembers me at all," she said. Though, contrarily, such words only had the corners of Lochlan's mouth curling.

"I disagree," he said, earning back her stare with a baited sense of amusement. "I've done a bit of research, you see. To be honest, you were not as easy to locate as I may have suggested."

"Research? What research? You said you could sense I was fae-touched. But, if Jareth doesn't know about you playing match maker for us, how did you even know we have a shared past in the first place?"

"Your name," Lochlan said, and tilted his head at her. He did that a lot, she noted. It was playful, though she got the sense it was a mannerism more nefarious than what let on. "I told you there is power in them. The rest was easy once I found yours..." he added, vaguely. Sarah watched him sternly. "Do you remember this?" Her eyes flickered down to his hand as it reached for something inside his coat pocket. Her eyes widened at what he revealed.

"Wha-where did you get that?" she asked. Lochlan let his grin show fully and flipped through the pages of the small red book.

"Where all discarded trinkets go when they are lost," he said, absently, fanning the pages as he pretended to read.

"I...I threw that out years ago," Sarah muttered, deeply shaken by the sudden appearance of this token from her past. It was because of that book that she even had the idea to wish Toby away. It was dangerous. Frightening. She'd tried to destroy it and prevent anyone else from making the same mistake she had. However, this book was magic and would not be so easily smote. It would not burn. Would not tear. Would not dissolve in water. In the end she merely threw it in the trash. She wanted it as far away from her person as possible.

"Yes...It was sheer luck then, really," he said, a pensive look calming his face as he thought back on the endeavor. "You see, when objects are lost and forgotten in your world, they have a pesky habit of appearing in ours. Did you happen to glimpse the junkyard when last you were here?" he asked. She nodded. Glimpse? She'd gotten more than a glimpse… "Well, such things exist in abundance across this realm. There is simply no helping it. Your people are vastly frivolous and wasteful things. Always polluting our world with your candid disregard...However, in this instance I am thankful. Had you not disposed of this book, I may never have found it and thus learned your true identity."

"But...my name isn't in that book. The protagonist is never named," she said, confused.

"Ah, but do you remember this?" he asked, and opened the back cover and held it out for her to see. "I do believe this is your name, no? Written by hand?" And then Sarah remembered. She'd written her name in the margin in case she'd lost it at school. She never thought a menial detail like that would generate such pivotal consequences. She lowered her eyes and scowled in deep contemplation.

"If you have that book then you obviously know the finer details of what happened between us. The story was fairly specific. Though how, I have no idea." she said, falling into a sense of detachment from all the troubled feelings still churning about her brain. That book was like a portent. It foretold almost everything that would happen to her in the Underground. Only, during those magical thirteen hours, it was like she'd forgotten, like she'd been in a daze…

"No idea? Why it's part of the game," he said. Sarah looked back.

"Excuse me?" Lochlan shrugged and looked at her impassively.

"I told you, His Highness enjoys games. Plaguing maze runners is one of his favorites. This book is meant to be a lure. It changes its story for every participant. See?" he said, holding out the book and flipping through its pages. Sarah's eyes widened when she realized it was now blank. "I've told you, I have no idea of the details that rendered your time here. All I knew was that your name is written in this book and you are touched by magic. The rest was sheer inference."

"But, how did it know what would happen? I don't get it…"

"That is the trick, isn't it? This trinket here...it is a very precarious thing. And His Highness...is also a very precarious thing. It has a way of bending time. The story you read, the story you were surely enthralled by, was in fact the story of your own future. That is the manner of magic that lured you in. And that was the key to your escape. Was it not?" Lochlan asked, and Sarah pondered. She'd never thought about it like that. Suddenly, the words of The Wiseman came back to her, " _the way forward is sometimes the way back"_. The end was the beginning. The only reason she'd been able to escape Jareth, to her understanding, was because she'd broken through that _daze_ and remembered the last line of the book. " _You have no power over me."_ Was that really it? The _trick_ , as Lochlan said? The key to her victory had been placed in her hands from the start, and it was put there...by the very man who was _supposed_ to be the villain.

"You seem to know an awful lot about this," she said, defensively. Lochlan rolled his eyes and glanced away.

"I told you, I've been His Highness's retainer for many years. I've learned his tendencies." He spoke dismissively and placed the book in his satchel. Sarah observed quietly with pursed lips. He did not at all seem worried about this marriage, but she knew better than to allow herself to fall into a false sense of security. Lochlan had said his master was fickle, mischievous, prone to anger. He also said he was very powerful, and was, apparently, entitled enough to refuse any and all _worthy_ fae ladies posed at his father's behest. She didn't know if she could handle such a person. She had no idea what her future held in store.

_But what no one knew was that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl and given her certain powers_ …. Wait. What?

Suddenly roused from her musing, she straightened up and her eyes widened. No. That definitely was not true. It couldn't be. That little detail was surely just there...to entice her. Right?

This new look of alarm went unnoticed however, as Lochlan began to pack away his cookware. Any question she may have posed fell dead in her throat when he turned to look at her. It was better that way, she assured herself. She had enough to contend with as it was.

"If you have any more questions, feel free to ask. But I do advise getting as much sleep tonight as possible. We'll be heading out at first light. Now that I know you are ill-prepared for the journey, I'd like to shave as much time off our schedule as possible."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks…"

She watched him as he tossed his bag a few feet away and sprawled out along his sleep mat. He lay on his back with his arms extended behind his head. Apparently, it was bedtime. Sarah sat in silence for a moment. She felt awkward. There were still a million questions on her mind. In the end, she mirrored Lochlan by curling down on her mat and covered herself with a blanket. She had the next 4 days to question him after all and, now that he'd mentioned it, she was in fact feeling tired.

She closed her eyes and tried to relax, though it was near impossible. She was actively pursuing a marriage with Jareth. JARETH. It was surreal. It was too much. It was absolutely, unequivocally, insane.

* * *

The next morning came gradually. Sarah was surprised with how well she slept despite feeling unguarded and perturbed on bare ground. However, the morning sun was warm, its light diffused between the canopy leaves, and the distant sounds of birds were a gentle alarm that had her eyes fluttering open with leisure. She thought for a moment about how wonderful it would be to wake in such a way every morning.

Lochlan was already up. She spied him standing away with his back to her as he packed the saddlebags of his horse. The fire was reduced to a stream of smoke, and the smell of it, of the earthiness of the ground, and the morning dew that speckled the grass, created an aroma more provocative than a freshly brewed cup of coffee. She inhaled deeply and sat up, realizing the forest looked vastly different in daylight.

The foliage was lighter colored, not quite green, more of a blue with a hum of white. The trees were tall and thin, their leaves held high above them while vines of the same blue hue hung low in the space between. There was a mist blending it all together in a way that was legitimately otherworldly. She stood to her feet and brushed some dirt from her clothes.

"Ah, you're awake. Good," Lochlan said and turned to face her. "Take a moment to eat, if you'd like. Then I'd like for us to get going."

"Alright…" she said, still feeling a little groggy. Would she ever have coffee again? Did such a thing exist in the Underground?

She ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath. The air was so much crisper here and filled her lungs more fully. It revitalized her in a sense. Was it just the natural air, or this place itself? She stretched a bit and gave in to take another couple bites of her sandwich. Four or five days...Three apples and two point five sandwiches. ...oh and a bag of chips. Let's not forget about the chips. She could make it last. She didn't have a choice.

She grabbed her backpack and sauntered over to 'her' horse. Not wanting to make herself a damsel again, she confidently took hold of the saddle and rooted her foot in the stirrup, then hoisted herself up and swung over her leg. She hoped Lochlan wasn't watching. She'd nearly fallen off in the process. However, the horse was patient and she found her balance. She patted its neck in thanks.

Its reins were tethered to the back of Lochlan's saddle. He glanced at her briefly, and then mounted his horse.

"You learn fast," he said, though she couldn't tell if he'd meant it sincerely. "That's good. You'll need that here," he added. Sarah narrowed her eyes at his cryptic tone, but decided not to play into it.

"Yes, well, it's only a horse."

The journey to the outpost was peaceful. The trail was narrow but well-groomed, and the horses were perfectly well behaved. Lochlan had said they would be traveling most of the day, but if they moved fast enough he was hopeful they'd reach the fort before nightfall rather than the following morning. Every few hours they would stop to let the horses rest and to stretch their own legs, and Sarah quickly realized just how precious a commodity toilet paper was. Sneaking off to pee in the bushes felt undignified, but there wasn't exactly any other choice.

She'd also taken the opportunity to probe Lochlan for as much knowledge as possible. He was much more forward than she had expected, and took full advantage of it. She'd learned that Jareth's father was the king of the very powerful country of Erewhon in the Underground. This country bordered the Eastern Sea, which was where Faengsel Isle (A.K.A. The Goblin Kingdom) was located -not too far off the coast. She said she found this surprising, as her memory of the Goblin Kingdom painted it a vast desert. Lochlan had confirmed this, and merely added that Faengsel was _a fairly large island_.

She had also asked why Jareth held a principality off the main continent, but Lochlan's response was altogether vague; simply saying it was the place his father had assigned him while he pursued his studies. She'd asked why Jareth was an only child, why The King was putting the pressure of succession on him providing an heir rather than him providing Jareth with a sibling. Lochlan was noticeably caught off guard by this question, and had even gone so far as to glance back at her before responding. He was amazed at how thorough she was being, how attentive and perceptive she was of details she could have only gleamed from between the lines. This worried him a bit...unsure of what would be in her best interest -blissful ignorance, or full disclosure.

"He has tried," Lochlan admitted, careful of the words he chose. "The Queen is...well...she is considered unfit to bear children." Sarah frowned, but kept quiet as he continued. "It is rumored that she suffered many miscarriages in her youth. His Highness's birth was considered a blessing from the gods. She has subsequently suffered many more miscarriages and stillbirths. I have heard that due to the emotional toll, Her Majesty no longer wishes to have children. I believe His Majesty respects that."

"Oh, I see…" Sarah said. She couldn't imagine living through that. Being as old as they were, she couldn't even fathom the number Lochlan was referring to by the term 'many'. He had told her The King and Queen were several thousands of years old. How many times had they suffered the loss of an unborn child? How many times had they rejoiced, allowed themselves to feel excitement and love for something only to have that life snuffed and taken before it even began? An emotional toll indeed.

And then there was Jareth. Their only son. Their pride. And for some reason, they were now desperate enough to marry him off to a human peasant.

"Yes...I would urge tact when you meet with His Majesty. Please do not refer to any of this," Lochlan said, distracting her from her dour thoughts. She blinked up and stared at the back of his head. His hair was pure black, curled and crimped, cut short in the back but the rest was long and tousled in a perfectly messy quaff. She found herself wondering what sorts of hair products he used.

"I understand."

"Oh, do you hear that? I think we're getting close," he said, and Sarah followed his gaze when it turned to the right. He was staring through the trees, though all she saw was more forest.

"Hear what?" she asked, then listened. She heard the clop of the horses, the rustle of branches in the breeze and… "Are those...waves?" Lochlan glanced back with a smile.

"Yes. We're nearing the coast. I believe it is just over this ridge. Which means we should be arriving at our destination presently."

"Thank God," Sarah muttered. Her hips were aching from riding this damn horse all day. The sun was waning in the sky, so she assumed it was well into the evening. She was getting hungry again, but after finishing off her first sandwich, she declared she would not touch another until the following day. To distract herself from the rumbles of her stomach, she tried to listen to the sound of the waves. She'd never been to the ocean before. She'd only seen it in pictures and films. She wondered if it would look any different in the Underground.

It was about another twenty minutes before they reached their venue. The trail grew wider and curved, bringing them closer to the beach. The forest thinned and finally she caught sight of a tall watchtower looming above the canopy. They came into a clearing and were greeted by a wooden barricade standing a good twenty feet tall. The tops of the logs were sharpened into spikes, and two covered lookouts stood just beyond it on either side of the main gate. There were large, heavily detailed banners waving in the breeze. She tried, but couldn't get a good look at their imagery.

The horses came to a stop, Sarah's moving to stand in-line with Lochlan's. There were a pair of guards standing by, fully dressed in heavy leather armour, and wielded ceremonial glaives. Sarah noticed a familiar-looking symbol painted on their regalia. Similar to the pendant she remembered Jareth had worn. Lochlan nodded to them, and wordlessly they opened the gate. Sarah said nothing. Clearly their arrival had been anticipated.

Lochlan urged his horse forward and they began to trot side by side into the courtyard. Sarah glanced around. He had told her this place was a military encampment and he had not lied. She saw squadrons of fae soldiers marching in time, other's dueling and practicing archery. The air smelled of dust, hay, and smoke. She heard the pang of a hammer on anvil and was, once again, cast into a world and a time she'd only ever read about. She saw more banners erected on poles that lined the dirt road they traveled on. They alternated between black and purple, and featured a very intricate coat of arms. She saw two winged creatures bracing a shield and holding a pair of swords in their talons. The shield was decorated in a variety of patterns and colors, and a crown was placed atop it. As they passed by, she made a mental note to ask Lochlan what it all meant.

Beyond the courtyard was a large, heavily fortified structure. It stretched long, with a stable on either end. It was made of wood, dark wood, that did not match the surrounding forest. From the center of this building stretched the watchtower she had previously seen. It was very tall. She had no idea how many stories, but she had to cock her head back just to glimpse the top of it. By now they had made it to the main doors, and Lochlan was dismounting his horse.

He patted the steed on its shoulder and turned to offer her a hand. She took it readily, having already learned how difficult it was for her to dismount on her own. He caught her by the waist as he helped her down, and then turned his attention to the building.

"Well, this is it. Southern Outpost 3-7-1."

Sarah quirked a brow at him.

"Really? That's it's name?" She found herself scoffing. Lochlan grinned and glanced back up the tower.

"Indeed. Shall we settle ourselves in? It isn't quite eight yet. I'm sure you'd enjoy a nice hot bath and feathered bedding after all that riding." And to that Sarah felt relief. A hot bath. Yes. A thousand times yes.

"Absolutely."

* * *

The door to the garrison was opened for them by yet another pair of leather-clad soldiers. Sarah found them interesting to look at. She'd never seen so many fae before. Their armour was beautifully embroidered, though worn and clearly well-used. Their hair was unexpected, either cut short or tied back in tight braids. She left her eyes unguarded, and inspected them brazenly. None of them looked at her as she passed by. Not a single one. And she gathered, aside from their pointed ears, that they really didn't look much different from humans.

They entered the main hall and were immediately greeted by a well-dressed figure descending the stairs in front of them.

"Ah, My Lord. You've arrived. I say, we were not expecting you until morning," the man said. He was tall, well-built, wearing loose, plated armour that was more or less for show. He wore a deep red cloak, and displayed bright gold accents that glinted from his spaulders and boots. He held out his hands to them, a smile lain on his face.

"Yes. We are, fortunately, slightly ahead of schedule." Lochlan dipped his head in acknowledgement and glanced at Sarah. "This is General Fostad. He is the head of military operations in this area," he explained, to which Sarah nodded in kind. She looked to the General, who was now standing directly before them, and bowed awkwardly.

"Pleasure to meet you," she said. Fostad grinned, amused, and placed his hands on his hips.

"And you must be the mortal we've been hearing rumors about," he said, then leaned forward to twirl a hand as he bowed emphatically before her. She wasn't expecting that. She just kind of blinked.

"Um...yes. My name is Sarah," she said, suspicious of the fact that apparently there were rumors being spread about her. Fostad straightened and kept his attention on her.

"That's not your real name, I hope?" he asked, overtly deriding her. Sarah furrowed her brow and then immediately realized her error. Lochlan had introduced him as Fostad, but he had also said it was taboo to reveal another fae's name. Clearly, Fostad was not this person's _real_ name. Damn. Perhaps she should come up with her own pseudonym, and quick.

"She's still learning our ways," Lochlan spoke for her, deflecting from her impending panic and stealing Fostad's attention. "She'll catch on in time." Playing off the issue with a smile, Fostad smiled in return and glanced over his shoulder as he snapped his fingers. Immediately, two young women appeared from around the corner and quickly stood at his side.

"I've no doubt," Fostad said, and glanced down at the girls. They were young, in their mid-teens maybe. Or at least, that's how old they _looked_. They were each a dark blonde with natural curls, and wore similar gowns of muted pink satin. "These are my daughters. They'll be attending you for the duration of your stay here," he said, speaking to Sarah. Sarah peered from him to the girls, who then bowed to her in succession. Well that was uncalled for, she thought. They were most definitely of a higher station than her.

"I see. You are most gracious," she said, accepting his hospitality with deference and a dip of the head. Lochlan smiled and watched from the corner of his eye. Nuance aside, she was a natural.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss. Would you please allow us to show you to your room?" they asked, speaking in tandem. That threw her off immediately, but Sarah kept her expression from reflecting it, lest she insult them. She opened her mouth to speak but could only look to Lochlan for a cue.

"By all means," he said, as if she needed his permission. "Tonight you may relax. Tomorrow you will meet with His Majesty, and after that we will depart for Faengsel." He turned to the women then. "Please make sure she is properly prepared for His Majesty's council," he said and they both nodded. After that, he turned and threw an arm around the General. "Well then, shall we leave the ladies to it?" he asked, and the two of them stepped away. Sarah stared in silence for a moment. He was really leaving her on her own? Why did she feel so dependent on him? She turned back to the girls and smiled politely. They were just staring at her as if she had seven heads, and she wondered if they'd ever even seen a human before.

"So...lead the way?"

The sisters, yet unnamed, led her up the central staircase. They rose several floors, and took her to a wing they assured was both "safe" and "private". The room assigned to her was small, though still bigger than her own back home. There were two windows, several sconces on the wall, and a fireplace. However, this did little to aid in the lighting situation. Everything was made from the same dark wood; and the setting sun, along with all the other sources of luminescence, emitted the deep golden light of a natural flame. Her eyes had yet to adjust to the ambiance it created. She'd forgotten there was no such thing as electricity, let alone fluorescent lighting, in the Underground.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," one of the sisters said. Sarah glanced over as they stepped around her deeper into the room. It seemed they had a task at hand but Sarah was feeling a bit absent-minded. She turned around full circle and set her backpack down on the end of the bed. It was nice. The room was nice. She wondered, briefly, what the rooms in Jareth's castle looked like.

"Are you ready to undress?"

Sarah peered over sharply. The girls were standing together, staring at her again. She hadn't realized how close they were.

"Um...why?" she asked, warily. The girls blinked repeatedly.

"So that we may bathe you," they said. Now it was Sarah's turn to look dumb. She drew back and scowled.

"Excuse me? I can bathe myself, thank you," she said, but the girls didn't budge. Their looks only worried, and they frowned.

"But...Lord Leche bade us to prepare you for His Majesty...we must make sure you are thoroughly cleansed."

Sarah scowled in confusion at the name Leche, but immediately realized that must be Lochlan's false title. She groaned internally then. These girls seemed earnest. She didn't want to upset them. Of course she would need to be 'properly' bathed. What, would they try to anoint her with oils next?

"Fine. Can I at least have some privacy while I get in the tub?" she asked. The girls exchanged glances and then turned to her with a nod. Apparently even that was considered unusual. Sarah rolled her eyes discreetly and left to what she assumed was the bathroom. She could hear the faucet running and, upon entering, was immensely relieved to see they did in fact engage in modern plumbing. The tub was average size, free-standing, and made of heavy ceramic. It stood in the middle of the room, a steady veil of steam rising from beneath its brim.

She undressed and lowered herself into it.

As if they had been waiting with their ears pressed to the door, just as Sarah's elbows hit the water, the door opened and the two women came shuffling in.

Sarah sat awkwardly with her knees drawn up to her chest. There was something in the water coloring it opaque and milky. She was glad for that.

The girls each knelt down beside her on either side of the tub. Each reached for an arm and held it out as they gently scrubbed her with a sponge.

"So...you live here then? In the garrison?" Sarah asked, feeling a dire need to break the awkwardness with small talk. The girls peered up and nodded.

"Yes. For now."

It fell quiet again. Sarah gritted her teeth.

"Do you know anything about why I'm here?" she asked. They'd finished with her arms, and one moved behind her to work on her back while the other reached into the water and pulled out a foot. Geez. They weren't exactly making this easy for her.

"You're here to meet with His Majesty," one said.

"Do you know why?"

"No." And neither did they seem particularly interested. Their attention, entirely, was on washing her. She watched the one as she inspected her foot, as if unsure if it was good enough. She then felt the other reach below, before pouring a cascade of water over her hair. Sarah's eyes lowered to the ripples moving across the water. Maybe she should just shut up and let them do their job.

"You're from the Aboveground, right?"

She was surprised when the girl behind her spoke. There was a faint sense of intrigue that betrayed their otherwise apathetic demeanors. Sarah shifted uncomfortably as the other released her right foot in exchange for the left.

"Yes...I am."

Maybe it was the quiet of the room, maybe it was just Sarah; either way, it seemed what followed was a silence perturbed.

"We've never met someone from the other world. Is it as awful as they say?"

Now that had Sarah peering back with a quizzical look. The girl behind her, who had been massaging shampoo of some sort through Sarah's hair, held her hands suspended as if caught off guard by the brazen eye-contact.

"Awful? _They_ say it's awful?" Sarah asked. The girl scowled, her lips pursed in a frown. Taking pity, Sarah broke from her gaze and turned back around. "It's not awful. Not at all. It's just different. A very different place from here." And to that she could feel the girl relax behind her. Sarah thought maybe the girl was afraid she had offended her, but she just wasn't sure how to gauge them. She had no idea of their social nuances.

She was drawn from her thoughts when a hand suddenly traveled, very daringly, up the length of her thigh.

"Whoa. Hey. I can do that myself, thank you," Sarah said sharply, and lurched forward before the girl and her sponge could make contact with a place they had no business being. The girl looked surprised, and sat back. Sarah took the sponge from her and raised a hand in sign of appeasement. "Seriously. I got it from here." She looked skeptical, but in the end did not push the matter. Instead, she stood and started tidying up. The girl at her back began to wash the soap from her hair, running lithe fingers through the sodden tendrils in a manner that Sarah found very comforting.

"We've laid out a nightgown. In the morning we will come to dress you. Would you like us to bring you dinner before we go?" Their question was innocent enough, though it had Sarah stifling a scowl. She did not want to be thinking about food right now. It reminded her that she was starving.

"No, thank you," she said, wringing out excess water from her hair as she spoke. The women stood and stepped away, though Sarah glanced over when she noticed they were not leaving. She saw them standing again, in that eerie way of theirs, and stared at her expectantly. "Um...is there something else?"

"When you're ready, we'd like to dry you," they said. Sarah blanched. She'd done well enough to maintain her modesty throughout that awkward-ass bath, but that seemed a naught effort if they insisted on drying her. Really?

"That is unnecessary," she said, hoping that would be the end of it. It wasn't.

"But it is, Miss. We must inspect your figure for any impurity."

Of course they did. Sarah rolled her eyes and shook her head subtly. But then again, maybe it was her behavior that was out of line. She was, after all, meeting with a king. A very prominent, non-human, magical king, who's blessing she was meant to secure before proposing marriage to his son. His son who was Jareth. Jesus. She never, in all her days, imagined she would ever find herself in such a position. Feeling exasperated, she sighed and grumbled an internal _fuck it_ as she stood, unabashedly, from the tub.

* * *

Sarah awoke the next morning feeling even more refreshed than the previous, which led her to suspect there was indeed something in the air here. She'd never been a morning person, and yet for the second time she'd woken naturally, and readily, by the rise of the sun.

It was cold. The heat had been stolen from her room by the night air, and so she bundled herself in blankets as she stoked life back into the fire. She was so hungry she couldn't stand it, and had given in to eating an apple and over half a sandwich. She knew she would regret that, but she couldn't help it. She now had 2 apples and 1.3 sandwiches. According to Lochlan, they still had over two days to go. Fuck.

She brushed out her hair as she sat on the floor beside the fire. She wondered how her father was doing, whether or not he would get to go home soon. She wondered how happy Karen was feeling. How big Toby's smile had been...

It was only a few moments later that she was drawn from her thoughts, without surprise, by a gentle knock that came at the door. She turned and looked, though remained seated, as the two sisters entered the room.

They found her location immediately, and both sets of brows drew tight when they saw her wrapped in a ball on the floor.

"Miss, are you alright?" they asked. Sarah shifted in her spot but only held the blanket tighter.

"Yes. Sorry, I'm just cold. I'm not used to not having central heat," she explained, knowing as the words came out of her mouth that they would have no idea what she was talking about. She staggered to her feet and approached them. They closed the door behind them carefully, as if they feared anyone walking by might see her in such a state. Sarah almost laughed.

"It does tend to get a bit drafty in the tower. Did you sleep well?" one asked, the one who had asked her questions the previous night. The other said nothing and moved to the other side of the room to pull out what Sarah supposed was to be the day's attire.

"Yes. I slept great actually," she said, giving in to release her blankets and then draped them over the bed. She felt immediately frigid without them, and curled her bare toes in response. She was wearing a nightgown, white, with a highly-unprecedented amount of lace trim. It was bulky in some areas while much too risque in others. She kept her opinions to herself however. If she'd gathered anything from her time in Underground, it was that the fae had a very distinct sense of fashion.

"Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?"

Well shit. They were just so damned hospitable. Why did they have to keep bringing up food?

"No, thank you. I've already eaten," she said, placing a hand subconsciously over her stomach as if to smother a reflexive growl. Starving herself for a day or two would be worth it if she got to go home in the end. She just had to keep reminding herself of that.

"Here, I think this will do nicely," said the other sister, who had now returned from the armoire with a shiny, satin gown in tow. It was long-sleeved, a rich, burnt sienna color with gold and slate embroidery around the bust and wrists. Not something she would have picked for herself but, as she inspected its flaccid form lying in the girl's arms, she decided it looked fine and clearly these women knew better on the matter. "Shall we help you get dressed then?"

Much to Sarah's chagrin, the women were just as involved in getting Sarah dressed as they had been in drying her off with the towel. She was given no undergarments, only a loose-fitted, sleeveless cotton slip. This greatly unnerved her, and she was ever-so-grateful to have minded to pack at least twenty pairs of underwear. As she thought over this, she realized how stupid she was. What did that say about her priorities? She'd remembered to pack all the undergarments she owned and yet had only bothered with a day's worth of food? As the girls fitted her dress in place, Sarah found herself shaking her own head in beratement. She was clearly not at all prepared for this.

They'd tightened the strings at her back and moved on to paint her face. Sarah was a little surprised at first. She'd never had someone else do her make-up for her. Even still, once again, she found herself complying wordlessly as they dotted powder about her cheeks and flicked her lashes with mascara. Well that was another relief...Apparently they had modern forms of make-up as well.

They were putting away their supplies when another knock came at the door. Sarah, having sat down on the edge of the bed, stood as she looked over to it.

"Um, come in?" she said, skeptically. She wasn't sure who else she was expecting, but it was obviously Lochlan. He opened the door and shut it gently behind him. When his eyes landed on her, he smiled. Broadly.

"Wow," he said, a little stunned. Sarah wasn't sure whether such a reaction was truly a compliment. He stepped closer to her and his eyes lowered. "You look rather lovely."

Sarah pursed her lips and mulled over her response.

"For a human anyway," she said, with vague sarcasm. Lochlan's eyes glanced up and his smile curled with amusement.

"Indeed." He knew she was irritated, being primped like a doll the way she was, but he couldn't help but leave her unsatisfied. He sensed a fiery temper in her as well, and a sense of pride that would become invaluable to her. He'd rather she save it for her fiance'.

"So now that I'm looking decent, when will we be meeting The King?" she asked. Lochlan raised his brow and glanced back at the door reflexively.

"Actually, that's why I've come to you. He's just arrived. And he's asked for you, presently."

Sarah's reaction to this news was delayed by the squirming of her attendants, who immediately started shuffling up their belongings in their arms and made a quick dash for the door. Sarah watched this with worry. It seemed they now had other, more important, duties to attend to. She caught Lochlan smiling after them as they bowed and left. This time, the door hung open.

"Where are they off to?" she asked. Lochlan shrugged.

"They are the Ladies of the house, and The King is upon their doorstep. I imagine they have a bit of panicking to do." Lochlan looked amused but Sarah was feeling anything but. Maybe panic was the appropriate feeling to have. Before she could delve into such thoughts too deeply, he turned to her and offered a hand. "Well? Shall we then?"

Lochlan led her down the hall back to the stairwell. They went up, many floors, to a point where the tops of trees could no longer be seen from the windows. She was getting nervous. She had no idea how she was supposed to act.

"So...are you going to brief me on what I'm supposed to be doing?" she asked. Lochlan peered downward on reflex. He was a great deal taller than her.

"There is not much for you to do. His Majesty knows who and what you are. So long as you are respectful, I see no reason to force a pretense." He spoke plainly but Sarah was only biting her cheek. She already knew this man was not going to like her. His acceptance, to whatever degree, was a transparent act of desperation. She couldn't imagine his pride would respond well to that. If he was anything like his son, at least.

"If you say so…"

They arrived outside of a large door. Without warning, Lochlan knocked thrice and then opened it. He ushered Sarah in, who was now fighting the instinct to backpedal.

The room was an office space, perhaps even a drawing room. The walls were lined to the ceiling with books, and an unfinished painting sat upon an easel in the far left corner. Rolled canvases sat atop a table to her right. In front of her was a window, its visage turned white from the light of the morning sun. And in front of it, standing with his back to her, was The King.

She heard Lochlan close the door behind her and she took a tentative step further into the room. The man did not acknowledge them right away. He stood in silence as he stared out the window. Sarah took the moment to observe him.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and wore a long coat that fell to the knee. It was a dark red, velvet maybe, with black accents. His pants and boots were also black, and his long hair -the same pale blond as Jareth's- was pulled back into an elegant ponytail that draped over his shoulder.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," she heard Lochlan say, a bit too cheerfully, as he joined her at her side. The King turned, and his gaze locked straight onto hers.

He had a chalice in his hand, and she watched as a gloved finger began to tap impatiently against it. Sarah found a rock forming in her throat. He looked like Jareth. Of course he looked like fucking Jareth. He was older, with a more square jaw. But the glint in his eyes? The curve of his nose? That nerve-shattering intensity? It was all the same. He stepped away from the window and looked down his nose at her, then tilted his head as he regarded her appearance.

"So...you are the mortal," he said, with an aloof sense of detachment that had her struggling for bearing. Instinctively, her eyes wanted to dart away. She was, however, able to keep her gaze strong. She forced a semblance of a smile, and bowed before him.

"Yes...It is an honor to meet you, Your Majesty."

For whatever reason, she found her first meeting with Jareth to be far less intimidating. When she had met him, in all his glory, she had felt no compulsion whatsoever to look away. No, she was able to stand tall before him, to hold his stare and speak with a familiarity that really should not have existed. She found that an odd observation to make, now of all times. Perhaps it was her childhood sense of wonder. Regardless, currently she found herself very much nervous in the presence of the actual King.

She heard him huff and she glanced up reflexively.

" _Hmph_ , an honor, is it?" he asked, mockingly. Sarah scowled. He had the same smile as his son as well. Using that to calm her nerves, she straightened her back and looked him square in the eye.

"Yes. Actually," she said, making no effort to hide the slight offense in her voice. "You've done me a great kindness," she added, and watched the way he quirked a brow at her in response.

"Really? I didn't realize you would be so eager to wed my son," he said, which earned from her a brief look of confusion. She shook her head.

"I'm not. Actually, marrying your son is of no particular interest to me," she said, then glanced back at Lochlan. "But Lochlan made me a very generous offer that I was unable to refuse. My father was suffering from a terminal illness. I'm told it was by your magic that he was cured." And that, The King understood. He set his chalice down on the table and crossed his arms over his chest. He was surprised by her frankness. By her audacity to continue looking him in the eye.

"Ah. I see. Your presence here is payment, then, rather than reward."

"Yes. Precisely. I'm here because I am indebted to you. I love my father and my family, and now, because of you, they get to live and prosper together. You have my eternal gratitude for that."

She held her ground when he stepped towards her, when his gait became a prowl she recognized. He now stood much too close to her, and looked down with a sideways grin.

"Lochlan tells me you've known him. That you've run that maze." Sarah swallowed but held firm. If he was trying to intimidate her, she would not confirm it.

"Yes."

"And yet you still agreed to come back?" he asked, his tone implying something of disbelief. Sarah drew her brow tight. Was he underestimating her? Or did he think she was just stupid?

"So it seems."

It was hard not to be annoyed, even harder not to show it. Her sense of sass had gotten her in trouble in the past more than a few times, and she knew from experience she needed to bite her tongue a little harder. His eyes flickered over her, and she noted their color- a rich amber. She wondered if Jareth's eyes came from his mother.

"Hm...He must have been particularly gentle with you," he said, and sneered as he glanced away. "That, or you are an exceptional masochist."

She said nothing in response to his comment, recognizing it as an obvious incitement. The King huffed again, apparently amused by her bravado, and stepped away. His aura shifted, and the tension in the air surrounding them waned. She glanced up to Lochlan for reassurance, and he winked.

"Why do you think my son will choose you?" he asked. He'd taken back his cup and was walking over to the window again. Sarah took another step towards him.

"I don't. You came to me, remember?" The King glanced back shrewdly. Her tone was as hard as her stare. It was unexpected. So, there was a bit of bite to this one, was there?

"Quite." He took a long sip from his drink and peered down into it as he thought. "Do you fancy yourself a princess, Sarah?" he asked, catching her off guard by the mention of her name. She frowned and tried not to fist her hands.

"What? No."

He rolled his head back to her and cocked a brow.

"Good. Because you shan't be one."

"Excuse me?"

He walked over to a table housing decanters of wine and refilled his glass. He was no longer looking at her, his posture dismissive.

"There has never been a human let into my bloodline. I am not exactly keen on the prospect. I may give you an official blessing of your _potential_ marriage to my _only_ son. However, a marriage is all it will be. The authority to coronate you as a member of my royal court resides solely with me."

Sarah felt a new tension churning about her as he said that, a dire detail she hadn't yet considered. What the hell did that mean exactly? Would she not be recognized as Jareth's legitimate wife? Would she not be welcomed by society because of it? What would happen after she bore a child? Would he annul their marriage and forsake her? Sarah's sense of self-preservation was kicking in, though she knew she needed to tread the matter carefully.

"Dearheart, must you be so coarse?"

Sarah's look of worry darted to the left, to the source of the voice that had surprised both her and Lochlan. It was a woman, a very lithe, very tired looking woman. She had been sitting in the back corner of the room, apparently fit to observe until now. She stood, and Sarah took the moment to regard her as she approached.

She was nearly as tall as The King, certainly much taller than Sarah. She had dark, honey-blonde hair that fell in long symmetric waves. She was thin, perhaps too thin, and there were age lines around her eyes and mouth. She wore a burgundy dress with gold trim, and the make-up around her eyes was smokey and exaggerated. The woman smiled at her as their eyes met and she realized, far too late-

"Oh, Your Majesty. Forgive us, I did not realize you were here." Lochlan spoke and bowed, a gesture Sarah immediately replicated. Sarah's eyes grew wide as she stared at the floor. She was barely prepared to meet Jareth's father, let alone his mother, the two of them, together.

"It was rather last minute," she said, her voice so soft and smooth it had Sarah peering up in disbelief. Lochlan straightened, and so did she. The Queen was looking at Lochlan with something of admiration in her stare. Sarah found that interesting.

"She insisted on being here," The King said, now turned away from the window and staring back at them. Sarah blanched. Feeling Sarah's trepidation, The Queen turned her gentle grin to her.

"Of course. As my dear husband says, we have never welcomed a human into our home before. I simply had to see you for myself," she said, and Sarah stood rigid as she reached out and stroked the hair at the side of her face. She was right. His mother's eyes were blue. Her skin, however, was more tan, and her features were soft and delicate. Still, there was something about her face that held deep recognition to Sarah. Was it her cheekbones? The shape of her mouth? She wasn't sure. "Well, you are pretty. Aren't you?" Sarah blinked and tried not to dart her eyes away.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

The Queen's eyes raked over her and she began to pace a bit, inspecting her from head to toe.

"How old are you, child?" she asked.

"Um, twenty."

"Twenty? Twenty years?" Sarah blinked and nodded. The Queen's brow rose high, and she smiled. "My, you are just a babe."

"I'm considered fully grown in my species," Sarah explained. This seemed to amuse The Queen, who caught her gaze as a canny little smile curled her lips.

"My son, was he kind to you?" she asked. Sarah mulled that over for a moment and, as she did so, she noticed The King seemed equally interested in her answer.

"Um, well...He could have been worse, I suppose," she said, not wanting to validate any of Jareth's supposed _generosity_ over the whole affair. The King and Queen stared at her as if abashed, like her response made no sense to them, but the look was fleeting on both their faces.

"I see...That is promising then," said The Queen, who now lowered her head as she walked towards her husband to stand at his side.

In a moment of impulse, Sarah took the break in conversation to get back to the matter at hand.

"What assurance do I have of my position in all this?" she asked, earning back the attention of both The King and Queen. He stared at her impassively, but she knew she was close to crossing the line of insolence.

"Assurance?" he repeated. Sarah bit her tongue. There was warning in his tone. Oh well. She inhaled sharply and carried on anyway.

"If you expect me to bear _legitimate_ heirs, surely I must be considered a _legitimate_ wife, equal in recognition to your prince," she said, sternly. Lochlan tensed beside her, but she failed to notice. If this man expected her to accept giving up her life to become little more than a bitch to be pimped out, he had another thing coming. The Queen looked worried, her gaze turning from Sarah back to her husband expectantly.

The King paused for a moment, and then a large, wicked smile spread across his face.

"Equal in recognition, you say? My, the audacity of mortals astounds me," he said, and, to her surprise, he laughed. He ran a tired hand across his face and shook his head, his free arm moving to rest lightly against his wife's back. That reaction did not seem appropriate. Had Sarah been reading him wrong? "Tell me child, what makes you think you deserve to be crowned?" he asked. Sarah bit her lip. He was testing her, surely. She needed to stand her ground.

"Because I am here," she said, narrowing her eyes just slightly. "Because, if your son agrees to marry me, I will have succeeded where so many of your own kind have failed. Lochlan was very clear in describing just how high your son's standards are. I know I have no pedigree to speak of, but at this point, if I prove good enough for him, will that not be good enough for you?" The King was silent, his look on her hardening. The Queen however, seemed to be considering this readily, a mild scowl of contemplation furrowing her brow as she rose a hand to her husband's chest. Sarah bit at her lip once more and looked him straight in the eye. "If what you want is a grandchild, then assuring the safety of my position in your society after said child is born should be considered a minor concession." The confidence she spoke with was false and nearly faltered as she finished speaking. She held The King's gaze, emphasizing that being human did not mean she was something to be trifled with. Despite their prejudice, they needed her and she knew it. She half-expected him to become angry, insulted for her impertinence. However, again, he only laughed. Loudly this time.

Sarah recoiled at the rumble of laughter that resonated deep from his chest. The tension was gone, and it seemed he was greatly amused. His smile turned genuine, and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he glanced away. He set his cup down again and looked back to her with a worn expression.

"Darling, she does have a bit of a point," The Queen said, staring up at him urgently. "Surely it will be well justified. Shall we give her our full blessing?" For some reason Sarah wasn't expecting that, wasn't expecting Jareth's mother to be so favorable towards her. She seemed a gentle creature, good, and hopeful. Together it was a combination perfectly designed to sway the mood of her husband. Sarah remarked on this tiny bit of manipulation immediately. Maybe she wasn't so good after all.

The King huffed, and brought a hand to his hip.

"Very well then," he conceded -adding to Sarah's surprise. "If it is true that you know my son and have still agreed to this union, then I suppose you are more commendable than the majority of my own subjects. _If_ he should accept you, and _If_ you should produce an heir, then, and only then, will I acknowledge you as a daughter in my court. Are we in agreement?"

"Yes," Sarah said, instinctively responding to the challenge. However, she caught herself from saying anything more when his words finally registered. Wait. What the hell did that mean? That she'd _met him and still agreed to marry him_? Jareth was a jerk, yeah, sure, but he wasn't _that_ bad.

"Good." He began to walk towards her, keeping his hand at his wife's back as he guided her with him. Sarah was nervous, though they continued past her and towards the door. Both she and Lochlan turned to watch. He took hold of the handle and they both glanced back. Lochlan bowed his head readily. "I do wish you the best of luck, child," said his mother. "You're going to need it," said his father.

They left after that. Without another word. Sarah stood, out of body, as she contemplated what in the actual fuck that was supposed to mean. The King, the actual King and Queen of fucking Fairyland were wishing her luck on wooing their son? Was he really that unruly? Had her memory of Jareth been altered? What the fuck was she walking into exactly?

She turned to Lochlan to find him positively beaming.

"Well. I don't think that could have gone any better."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Oh golly, out of the pan and into the fire? Is it me or is there something suspicious going on? Good luck girl.
> 
> I've placed a couple of Easter eggs in this chapter, though I will only tell you about one of them ;) For those who may have picked up on it, "Erewhon" is not my creation. I've commandeered the title from the book 'Erewhon: or, Over the Range' by Samuel Butler. Erewhon is a fictitious country meant to serve as a satirical parallel for the absurdities of Victorian society. It is a ridiculous, confusing place, with backwards rules that don't make sense (sound familiar?). It is also an anagram of the word 'nowhere'. I thought all that was neat and fitting, so I decided to use it as the name of Jareth's true kingdom. It is, however, just a name, and has no other connection to its source material. Anyone who picks out the second Easter egg will gain a HUGE spoiler/clue towards the main plot. Happy hunting.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

**Chapter 4, Beyond The Horizon**

* * *

"What the hell was that about?" Sarah asked, bemused, as she turned and glared at Lochlan. He stared at her doe-eyed.

"Pardon?"

"They're wishing me luck? What exactly aren't you telling me here, Lochlan? Is there something I should know about Jareth?"

Again, Lochlan blinked. Sarah growled and sighed heavily through her nose. Registering this display as one of annoyance, Lochlan wised up and cracked a grin.

"There are a number of things, most definitely," he said, which only made her more irritated. She crossed her arms and held back a scowl. After a moment, Lochlan sighed. She'd learn sooner or later… "I've told you. Jareth is fickle. And, as of late, he has been testing the patience of his parents greatly. He is regarded as...difficult."

"Difficult?" Sarah repeated, beside herself. "Why do I get the feeling you're vastly underplaying the scale of that word?"

"Sarah, come now. Do you have any idea how many women The King has passed his blessing to over the last few years? Dozens. Perhaps hundreds. Princesses, Dutchesses, even virgin Queens. And here you are, a green little human at the end of the line who's barely been on this earth long enough to blink. Of course they're wishing you luck."

Sarah pursed her lips at him, having to bite her cheek to stop herself from saying something catty.

"Well, when you put it like that I'm surprised they wanted you to bring me here at all," she said, and waved a flippant hand through the air.

"That's because they didn't. Bringing you here was my idea."

Sarah paused and glared at him.

"What? Why?"

"It is my job to keep an eye on things," he said, with a faint little shrug. "...to oversee the progression of Jareth's work. I was away during the time of your escapade, but I had heard rumors of it. The story intrigued me, so I thought perhaps you might intrigue them in return."

"Intrigue? You're basing all of this over the possibility of intrigue?" Sarah asked, then smiled in spite of herself and shook her head. "My God...and here I thought _I_ was under prepared."

The corners of Lochlan's mouth curled as he stifled a chuckle. She looked so very exasperated and so very charming. She was unlike anything he'd ever encountered. So very human. He was actually excited for the journey ahead. She did not notice his gandering however, and merely sighed roughly.

"Sarah, you are better prepared than I could have possibly hoped for. Come, let's head for the ship. We'll make good time if we leave now."

He turned away, and Sarah eyed him as he effectively put an end to the conversation then and there. She nearly retorted that she wasn't finished yet, but he opened the door and *firmly* ushered her along. Picking her battles, she chose to let this one go for now. She felt handled. Literally. She'd keep note of that.

Without conversation, they headed straight to the main gate exiting the fort. Sarah found herself hesitating, but Lochlan assured her that her bag had been stowed on their carriage, along with a few other provisions General Fostad had provided for her. Sarah wanted to thank him, but from the bustling of the staff she gathered he, his daughters, and everyone else in the garrison, was busy fretting about the King and Queen's sudden arrival.

The carriage awaited them in the courtyard just outside the doors, and was part of a rather large procession of guards and what she assumed were merchant's and their wares. Lochlan opened the door for her and she stepped inside, grateful she no longer had to ride on horseback. Lochlan followed and sat across from her, then reached his arm out of the window and gestured for the driver to proceed. She heard the snap of reigns and then the carriage jerked forward.

"How far is it to the port?" she asked.

"Not far. Maybe about a ten-minute ride."

"Oh. I see," she said, absently. She crossed her legs uncomfortably and shifted in her spot. Her dress was bulky and not something she was used to wearing. She'd much rather be back in her jeans and t-shirt.

"You surprised me back there," Lochlan said, and she peered back at him.

"Hm?"

"You negotiated a crown from The King. That is no small feet, Sarah," he said, a stern eye contrasting to his grin as he spoke. Sarah furrowed her brow a bit.

"What else was I supposed to do? Just because I agreed to this scheme doesn't mean I should be at his mercy," she said, as if that should have gone without saying. "He doesn't get to be _desperate enough_ to barter for a human bride and then look down his nose at me like I'm unworthy. I don't care who he is."

"Well, I hope he never hears you say that," Lochlan said, teasingly...mostly. Sarah shrugged and glanced away, giving in to rest her chin on the heel of her hand as she looked out the window.

They were quiet after that, and Sarah was glad for it. She listened to the sound of waves as they steadily grew louder, and searched between the trees for any sign of a beach. As the trees gradually thinned and the brush was replaced by sand, Sarah felt her irritation waning. This place was just too beautiful. It was impossible to scowl at.

"Was it odd for The Queen to be here?" she found herself asking.

"Yes. She has not met with any other suitors."

Sarah pursed her lips, wondering if it was really her oddity as a human that had drawn such interest. Or rather, as Lochlan would phrase it, _intrigue_.

"She seems nice," she mumbled, to herself mostly. She could see the shore now, white foam lapping at its edge as gentle waves undulated one after another.

"She is."

Sarah glanced back and sat upright in her seat.

"They seemed familiar with you. Her especially." Lochlan looked caught off guard by the observation, though he only smiled.

"Yes. My mother is one of Her Majesty's attendants. His Highness and I were both born in the same year, and so we were raised alongside one another. Our familiarity is what earned me my position as his retainer," he explained. Sarah glanced down. Honestly, she'd never before thought of Jareth as having any friends or family. He was simply...him. An entity. Singular. It was odd regarding him as something more, for lack of a better word, human.

"I see. You must be very close then."

"We were. Once."

Sarah frowned at that, at the weight that baited that word. However, before she could probe any further, the carriage came to an abrupt halt. She heard some of the guards yelling, and the sound of waves crashing became all of the sudden loud.

"Ah. I believe we're here," Lochlan said, and moved to open the carriage door. He stepped down and offered Sarah a hand. She took it and peered all around as she exited.

They were still on the trail. However, just ahead it became planks leading to a pier. Docked in the harbor was a large ship, the likes of which Sarah had never seen in person. The merchants were already loading their remaining cargo and the soldiers escorting them now fanned to their posts. She looked around a little more and saw there were a few buildings, shacks, which seemed to be vending a variety of goods. There were more people moving about than expected. Sarah found herself standing rather close to Lochlan's side. Misinterpreting her behavior, he locked his arm in hers and escorted her forward.

They walked towards the ship, and Sarah could do little to stop her mouth from gaping open as her head tilted far back in awe of it.

"Have you ever sailed?" he asked. Sarah shook her head.

"No. I've never been on a boat before. Especially not one like this."

"Especially?" Lochlan asked, not thinking there was anything too impressive about a merchant grade vessel such as this. Sarah's eyes continued to roam over the length of the hull with wonder.

"Yeah. Ships like this...they aren't made in my world anymore. Not for a long time."

"No?"

"No. They're too impractical. Expensive. Our ships are made from metal now. And they're powered by engines."

"I see," Lochlan said, with an empty tone that had Sarah wondering if he actually did.

"Lord Leche, you've arrived. Perfect timing." Sarah and Lochlan peered over at a man who was walking towards them down the boarding ramp. He was wearing a plain beige tunic, stained with sweat, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was very tanned, and wore a bright red bandana tied around his forehead, though it did absolutely nothing to manage the unruly mess that was his dark brown hair. She caught Lochlan's smile as he dipped his head.

"As always," he said, then turned to Sarah. "This is our latest passenger, Miss Williams. Have her things been brought aboard?" The man glanced at Sarah, his smile holding fast, and he bowed his head to her.

"Yes. Her quarters have been readied. We merely await your command."

Lochlan turned to Sarah and gestured at the man with his eyes.

"This is our captain's first mate," he explained, to which Sarah nodded and smiled politely.

"A pleasure," she said. The man placed a hand over his heart and bowed again.

"Ah, but the pleasure is ours. The company of a woman is a matter of pride aboard our ship."

"Really? It's not considered bad luck?" she asked. The man looked at her rather oddly, but his smile curled on one side.

"Bad luck? Whatever do you mean?"

"Oh. It's just...in my world...It was a saying, I guess, once. That it was bad luck to have a woman aboard a ship," she explained. The man laughed, a deep, throaty sound.

"What? What a terrifying place you must come from," he said and gestured back at the ship. "You'll find no such prejudices here. Our wares are usually cattle and spuds. Very rarely do we have the chance to entertain a guest, let alone a Lady. We welcome the opportunity." Sarah felt a sense of relief at such words, as apparently her being a human did not matter in the slightest. Wait, was that comfort she was starting to feel?

"Oh. I feel I should thank you then. I was not expecting to be so readily welcomed," she said, a faint smile masking her insecurity. He was still smiling at her, his teeth much too white for a typical sailor.

It was not beyond Sarah's attention that every single fae she had seen over the course of her journey thus far was stupidly attractive. All of them. The soldiers, the servants, The King and Queen, this nameless firstmate, and Lochlan. The genetic profile of this species was a thing of envy, and it was steadily unnerving her. She looked away from the sailor and glanced about the market behind them.

There was a stall selling fish, one for clams, another advertised fishing gear, and further down the line she saw what she thought was a tavern. Hm. That seemed...eerily familiar.

"Sarah? Are you listening?"

"What?" Sarah glanced back to find Lochlan staring down at her. At some point the sailor had left them and apparently Lochlan had asked her a question. "Sorry, I was zoning out a bit," she said. Lochlan frowned but let it go. She was becoming more and more introspective as the day progressed. He couldn't blame her. He merely hoped she would not think herself to death before they even arrived.

"There are a few things I need to oversee before we depart. You're welcome to either wait onboard, or you can stroll about the market, if you wish," he said, which perked Sarah's attention.

"Oh. Okay. I think I'll have a look around then," she said. Lochlan gave her a nod and then turned away, walking briskly towards a man further down the pier. Sarah watched him and pursed her lips. It seemed she was safe to be left on her own, and she wondered why she questioned that to begin with. Maybe it was because she was in another dimension. Maybe it was because she was surrounded by things that were not human, that could use magic, and had not yet used it against her. Maybe she was overthinking it. Maybe Jareth _was_ a little different.

Sarah walked along the road trailing the beach and stared at all the little interactions happening around her. This all seemed so normal, so unimposing. These people were smiling, prattling, haggling. Aside from the hair, they looked like everyday folk. Could they all use magic? And to what degree? What was the class system here? She knew she was considered exotic, and yet no-one had paid her any mind. There were no side-eyes, no whispers behind covered hands. Maybe it was arrogance that had made her presume the people of this world would look down on her, would look at her at all. Maybe The King's condescension had less to do with her species than she'd thought.

She found herself meandering towards a booth selling rather lovely-looking windchimes. They were made of colored glass and petrified lightning, with little beads and decorative shells dangling in between. She fingered a couple that clicked in the breeze, and then froze utterly when a familiar hand reached out and pulled back her hair.

"Do you fancy this one?" The Queen said, just as Sarah turned to gape at her. Sarah's open mouth failed itself and she took a step back. She peered all around, to all the busy beings still going about their business. No-one seemed to care that The Queen was now among them. Could she even be seen?

Sarah brought her eyes back to her, and watched as she moved around the display and tapped at a few of the chimes.

"It's pretty. Yes," she said, warily. Jareth's mother glanced down and smiled.

"I hope you do not mind the intrusion," she said, softly. "I was hoping to speak with you alone for a moment." Her smile humbled, and Sarah found herself worried over the change in her demeanor. It was like she was sneaking. Maybe the others really couldn't see her.

"Of course," Sarah said, following her a step or two towards the back of the stall where they would not be heard. "What can I do for you, Your Majesty?" she asked. The Queen turned and tilted her head, her eyes still low as she thought. She looked wistful, hesitant. Clearly, something was bothering her. Something she could not say in view of her husband.

"I was told you visited this place a mere five years ago," she said, then looked up to catch Sarah's eye. "You spent time with my son. Is that really true?" Sarah's look worried. She wasn't sure where she was going with this.

"Yes…"

"I see...I myself have not seen him for many centuries," she said, which surprised Sarah greatly.

"What? Why?" Perhaps her question was too brazen, regardless it was too late to take back. Sarah bit her lip, but The Queen was not offended. She peered up and, for a brief moment, Sarah thought she saw pain in her eyes.

"He has been sequestered...in his research. He cannot return home until it is finished."

Sarah frowned. Everyone kept bringing up this important research of his, though she hadn't yet asked what that research was. It seemed cryptic. Maybe she didn't really want to know.

"Oh...why?" she asked. The Queen paused, glancing down at her finger as it tapped on the edge of a table.

"Because until it is finished...he cannot become king." Sarah opened her mouth to respond but found herself quiet. This woman looked very sad all of the sudden, conveying a sense of longing she was, frankly, unable to empathize with. She missed her son. That much was certain. She looked up and right at Sarah. Her smile was small and she shrugged, just slightly. "Sometimes I feel my memory waning," she said, forcing another smile. "Perhaps it has been longer than I realize. I simply...wanted to know what he is like."

Sarah's frown only deepened as she watched The Queen struggle to convey her request, and in that moment she thought she saw her true self. She saw a mother. Nothing more, and nothing less. The veil of _otherness_ Sarah insisted existed between their two worlds was now nowhere to be found. And the disillusionment lain within that moment of fleeting insecurity was as profound as it was humbling.

"I think…" she started, careful of the words she chose. The Queen's demeanor was cool enough, but Sarah knew she was hanging on her every word. She bit her lip and took pity. "He is...From what I've seen...I think he's a lot like his father."

The sudden light that ignited in The Queen's eyes was every bit justification for the not-quite-lie Sarah had just told.

"Really?" she asked, her voice more lively and hopeful as she took an instinctive step forward. Sarah forced away her frown. Apparently this was something she'd been needing to hear. The Queen stood before her and reached down to clasp one of her hands. "My, how happy you have just made me," she said, then drew back as she pulled something from a hidden pocket in her dress. "Here. I also wanted to give you this."

"What is it?" Sarah asked, her eyes darting down as Jareth's mother slid a silver ring onto her left index finger.

"My blessing," she said, then curled her hands around Sarah's own. "This ring will protect you from nefarious enchantments. You may need it where you're going," she explained. Sarah's eyes widened a bit, and she bowed her head emphatically.

"Oh...Thank you. That is...very generous," she said, very much caught off guard by the gesture. This woman was not at all what she expected Jareth's mother to be. Could her kindness really be trusted?

"Child," The Queen said, calling back Sarah's attention with a gentle grace. Sarah looked up to find her expression had turned sympathetic. "You spoke very sternly of your purpose here and of your conviction to bear him, us, children. I want to assure you...we are not so coldhearted." She let go of Sarah's hands and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind Sarah's ear. It was a matronly gesture, something warm and undeniably _kind_. "What we want most, what my husband wants most, is for our son to come home. We are hoping you, or whomever he chooses, will motivate him to do what must be done."

"I don't understand. What must be done?" Sarah asked. She was confused, and only became more so when The Queen responded with a smile.

"I don't know," she said, breezily. There was a lightheartedness, or perhaps even a sense of loss to her tone. Sarah did not like it. She was about to ask what that meant when The Queen suddenly twitched. Her eyes glanced to the side, as if listening to something. And then she smiled again, hastily. "Hm...I fear this is all the time we have. Tread carefully little one. I hear humans are rather delicate things."

Sarah blinked repeatedly in disconcertion, but before she could speak did a voice at her back surprise her and have her jumping out of her skin.

"Sarah? Are you alright?"

She whipped her head around to find Lochlan standing directly behind her. She turned back around but The Queen was gone. Lochlan was still staring at her, his expression concerned as she realized he had no idea she had been there.

"Huh? Yes. Yes, you just startled me is all," she said, running a hand through her hair as she regained her bearings. Lochlan's eyes narrowed a bit.

"Who were you talking to just now?" he asked. Sarah blanched. Fuck. So The Queen really had been invisible? Damn. What kind of powers did these people have?

"What? No one. I was just muttering to myself. I do that when I'm stressed," she said, stupidly. She shook her head and moved away from him. Not knowing any better, Lochlan took her answer at face value and moved on. He joined her at her side as they began to walk back towards the ship.

"I see. Well, you will have plenty of time to decompress once we set sail. The Captain foretells a strong gale heading our way. With any luck, we'll arrive even sooner than predicted," he said, but Sarah wasn't much listening. Mention of their timeline only reminded her of how ungodly hungry she still was and her stomach bound itself in knots in response.

When they returned to the pier, Sarah found it considerably emptier than when they'd arrived. It seemed everyone and everything was ready to go. Hands were on deck and the vast sheets of the sails were being lowered. She took her time walking up the ramp, wanting to appreciate the spectacle for what it was.

"Why are we going on a merchant ship?" Sarah asked. They were standing side by side in the middle of the deck, Sarah watching in earnest as the crew set about their stations.

"Because this is the only transport that goes to and from Faengsel," Lochlan said.

"Why?"

She'd turned to look up at him. He was smiling at a passerby; leading her to infer he was well familiar with all of the crew.

"Because the seasons are never kind there. It is nearly impossible to farm any type of produce, which in turn makes raising livestock equally difficult. Everything must be imported. The sole purpose of this ship, and this crew, is to ferry supplies to the island every three weeks. It is not a place frequented by tourists. Hence why we are not aboard a pleasure cruise."

"Ah," Sarah said, and glanced away. "Well...why can't we just travel by magic? Wouldn't that be easier?"

"Yes. It would. However, that is impossible," Lochlan replied, taking a few paces forward -which Sarah followed. "The air of the sea is nulled of magic. It is a precaution...against invaders. Something old that was established long ago. There is no ocean in this realm that will carry an enchantment. We are then forced to travel it by physical means," he explained, which had Sarah staring at him quizzically.

"Huh...I never would have thought."

"Would you like to see your quarters?" he asked, turning to face her with a smile. "Perhaps rest after the rather straining morning?"

Sarah raised a brow at him, her expression falling a little deadpan.

"I'm not that delicate, Lochlan," she said, crossing her arms and turning away. "But yes, you can show me to my room."

* * *

Sarah sat alone in her cabin aboard the HMS Pomona in quiet repose. They'd set sail some time ago, and it was now rather late in the day. She'd never been on a ship before. The sound of the waves and gentle sway of the hull was soothing. So soothing she had no idea how long she'd even been sitting there.

Her room was small but well accommodated, a twin-sized bunk being the seat she currently loitered on. There was a small window at the back of the room, gifting her a splendid view of churning waves that sprayed and tumbled in the wake of the ship. She had a couch and a small dining table, a vanity, and a bowl of water to wash up with. Initially, Lochlan had apologized for the "meager" accommodations, but she didn't see what he saw. Sitting here, amidst hand-woven curtains and expertly carved wooden finishings, she felt pampered. She felt like a Goddamned VIP. Briefly, she allowed herself to wonder how many other women had shared this room before her, and whether or not they appreciated it as she did.

Her cabin was on the ship's deck level, just below the Captain's quarters. Lochlan had told her that himself, along with the rest of the crew, would be bunking below deck. As the day dragged on, she wondered if she was meant to remain in here for the entire journey.

Nope.

She left her cabin and surveyed the deck. It was calm, a steady wind billowing out the sails as many of the crew stood at their posts and stared on into the distance. She inhaled deeply, and the crisp smell of salt and water invigorated her. This was not what she expected. Was not an experience she ever thought she would be lucky enough to have. As her eyes traced the horizon, the seemingly limitless blue of the ocean ahead, she felt suddenly wistful. So lovely.

She took a few steps away from her door and came into the sunlight. She noticed then that the door to the lower decks was open and the muffled sound of laughter and cajoling echoed from within. She looked around some more and saw the first-mate, not the Captain, was manning the helm. And Lochlan was nowhere to be found.

She heard another burst of laughter emit from the hole in the deck, and felt her curiosity peaking. Hm. What the heck?

_Some time later..._

Lochlan exited the Captain's chambers and headed down the stairs to the main deck. It was nearing dusk, the sun hanging low and vibrant in the sky. He wondered if it was a sight Sarah might appreciate, and went to knock on her cabin door.

He knocked twice and frowned when no reply came. He knocked again, this time calling her "Miss Williams" before opening the door to peak inside. He stood there for a moment, his brow twisting with puzzlement, before pulling back and closing the door.

"Say, you wouldn't happen to know where our young Lady has gone?" he asked a nearby deck-hand. The man, who had been sweeping, looked at the door, then Lochlan, then gestured to the lower deck.

"Believe she's down 'ere with the men, milord," he said.

"What?" Lochlan replied, scowling at the look of ignorance he received, before he turned and deftly walked away.

* * *

"Aye! Kanpai!"

Sarah threw up her hands as she cheered, clapping them loudly as she swayed back in her seat. The crewmen around her were laughing riotously, the one's sitting at the table with her near-blind with it. Their cherried-noses sniffled before tossing back another shot.

Sarah joined and gritted her teeth as the sharp twist of whatever the hell it was they were drinking shot down her throat. She was feeling buzzed, just a little bit, but her rosy cheeks told otherwise. She was laughing, her shoulders bouncing ungracefully as she reached out and clawed back her latest winnings.

They were playing poker. Not a very sophisticated game of poker mind you, but poker all the same. Both she and the crew were surprised this was a game both their worlds shared, and they welcomed her to the table readily. She was never more thankful her father had taught her to play. Whoever thought she'd be clearing house with a band of buccaneers?

The booze had been complementary, so she told herself it would be rude to refuse. She didn't want to insult them... And that was...how many hours ago? She had no idea, but she didn't much care either. Lochlan had told her previously that ingesting liquids would keep her safe, that it was only solid food that would cement her place in this world, so she felt comfortable indulging...just a little.

This was the third hand she'd won in a row, and she was starting to suspect they were letting her win. That was fine. She planned on giving it all back to them anyway. What use would she have for such things where she was going?

A man who'd introduced himself as Babble distributed a new hand.

"I say, I've never seen a Lady so shrewd!" said a man behind her. She glanced back at him and smiled.

"Sheer luck I tell you! Nothing more!" She thrust a drunken fist into the air and they all cheered again. When she turned back to the table, she pushed at her eyes with the heel of her hand. She needed to keep track of herself. Probably wouldn't be the best thing to lose faculty among so many strange men…

"Miss Williams?"

Sarah glanced up to find a very concerned looking Lochlan standing at the base of the stairs across from her. She scowled at him, as if he were hard to see, and then wove a hand through the air dramatically.

"Oh! Lordddd Leche! I was wondering where you went!" She curled her hand and gestured for him to come near, and he did. He moved around the crowd and joined her at her side of the table.

"What...what are you doing?" he asked, bewildered beyond all belief. Sarah gripped the table and leaned herself back, turning her head up to him as she responded.

"Playing cards. Do you want to join?" she asked. Lochlan frowned and, while he said nothing right away, the look alone was enough to sober her some.

"I think not. I thought you'd been in your room all this time. You had me worried."

And now Sarah frowned. He sounded sincere.

"Was I supposed to ask your permission to leave?" she asked, staring him dead in the eye when he hesitated.

"No…"

"Well then? I couldn't find you, so I figured I'd make some friends with these fine gents here. Aye?"

"Aye!"

Sarah chuckled and toasted her glass with them as they cheered with approval. She took a sip and then glanced back to Lochlan coyly.

"Oh, come on. It's just a little fun. Am I being disgraceful?" she asked, with a twinge of sarcasm. Lochlan arched a brow at her, more bored than offended.

"I was worried for your safety, not your reputation," he said, with a level tone. Sarah set down her glass and inhaled through her nose.

"Afraid I'd fallen overboard?" she asked, her mild stupor giving her eyes the courage to dare him into insinuating that the crewmen, who'd been nothing less than complete gentlemen, might be up to no-good with The Prince's intended.

Contrary to her expectation, this bit of incitement did not offend her babysitter. Actually, he grinned. He looked damn right chipper. He stifled a laugh and extended to her a hand.

"Yes. Actually," he said, his smile stretching a little further as she accepted the gesture. She stood from her seat and handed her cards to the man behind her.

"Looks like it's time for me to go gentlemen," she said and, much to her satisfaction, they all booed at Lochlan. "Here, take my place. Keep all my winnings," she told the man, who's eyes were positively alight with surprise. "I'll see you all in the morning, I'm sure." And she turned away from them without a glance. She giggled as she stumbled, allowing Lochlan to escort her up the stairs with a firm hand -spiteful to admit she may have needed the extra stability.

He brought her up to the main deck, and she was surprised to see how dark it'd gotten.

"Well, you're a bit of a spoil sport, aren't you?" she asked, mockingly, as she released his hand and stepped away from him. Lochlan's smile curled, though she wasn't quite paying attention to it.

"Best to quit while you're ahead, as they say," he said, and followed after her as she moved about the deck. Many of the crew had retired below, which gave them a fair amount of privacy as she moved towards the bow.

"Yeah...you're probably right. I wasn't too keen on actually getting drunk," she said, stretching her arms high above her head as she stood at the rail. Lochlan stood beside her, quirking his head as he observed her.

"Are you trying to tell me you're in fact not drunk currently?" he asked, teasingly. Sarah glanced up at him with a cunning eye.

"Please. I was feeling the atmosphere. It'll take a lot more than whatever the hell they were serving me to get me toppling from my chair," she said, with a new spark of awareness that had his brow rising in honest surprise.

"Wow," was all he could say. She turned back to him with a disingenuous smirk.

"What?"

"You um...you are not like the women we're used to," he said, beside himself, and pleasantly so. He ran a hand through his hair and looked out over the sea. "I think you're going to do well at Faengsel. If nothing else, you'll certainly catch him off guard."

His eyes, which Sarah spied discreetly, were lost in thought and she said nothing in response. Of course he would be optimistic Jareth would accept her proposal, but that wasn't an avenue she really wanted to think about right now.

"When will we arrive?" she asked, changing topics. Lochlan's hand left his scalp and joined his other at gripping the railing in front of him.

"We're making good time. Tomorrow evening perhaps. Hopefully, before nightfall."

"Wow, that's a lot of time to shave," she said.

"Yes, well, we normally aren't in much of a rush," he replied, alluding to her quickly diminishing food supply. Sarah frowned at the reminder, and brought a hand to her stomach. Damn. Drinking all that alcohol was going to make her starving in the morning.

"Thanks...for being so considerate. I really wasn't expecting it," she said, her tone a bit softer. Lochlan's smile humbled, his eyes lowering a bit as he stared at her.

"No...I imagine not."

"Could you tell me...what exactly is he researching over there? And why he needs to be so far away to do it?" she suddenly asked. Lochlan blanched for a moment, then relaxed. She had been staring out over the ocean but now turned back to lock eyes with him. She looked curious, perhaps worried. He wasn't sure...what to say.

"It is...sensitive in nature," he said, hesitating over the words. Sarah frowned.

"Okay?"

"It's not knowledge many are privy to...and I'm...honestly I don't think even I am at liberty to say."

"But you know?"

"Yes."

Sarah paused before responding. She could sense he was about to stonewall her, and debated how best to proceed.

"Why does he need to be in the Goblin Kingdom to do it?" she asked instead, moving on to her second question. Lochlan bit his cheek as he mulled something over.

"...It's not safe. Isolating his work on Faengsel is...a precaution of sorts."

Hm...Sarah wasn't sure what to make of that. She knew absolutely nothing about magic, let alone classified, dangerous, controversial forms of it. She kind of understood the whole isolation bit but...what The Queen had said to her...it left her worried. She'd said Jareth couldn't leave the island, or even become king, without first completing his work. And she'd implied he'd been away doing so for a very, very long time. She tapped her lip as she pondered. Asking further questions might rouse suspicion, and she didn't want to betray The Queen's confidence. Maybe she should let it go for now...learn all she could in stride.

"Sarah…"

Sarah turned and looked up at the subtle tug of Lochlan's voice. That was the first time he'd called her by her name since leaving the garrison, and she realized they were now totally alone on-deck. Her eyes focused on the faint disconcertion she saw twisting his brow. The thought he'd been lost in, whatever it was, it seemed to have turned unpleasant.

"Yeah?"

She noticed the way his grip on the rail tightened just before he let it go to face her fully. She too stood straighter, suddenly attentive of this more serious demeanor.

"You have been...shockingly accommodating of all this. Your performance with Their Royal Majesties was...magnificent, actually. I'm not sure what your memory of Jareth is, but before we arrive...I feel I owe it to you to warn you properly."

"Warn me? What are you talking about?" Alarm rose quickly in her voice, something Lochlan immediately regretted fomenting.

"I told you...he's known to have a temper?"

"...Yeah."

"Well...it is a bit more serious than that," he said, and glanced away. Sarah's eyes, now hardening with scrutiny over his profile, stared intently. "I'm not sure...what your experience with him was, but…"

"Just spit it out, Lochlan."

She felt worry when he glanced back at her with, what she registered as, a glimmer of pain in his eye.

"If he falls into a mood...you need to be very careful."

"Careful?" Sarah repeated. Lochlan was trying to turn away from her again but she stopped him by reaching out and lightly shoving him. "Are you telling me he's abusive?"

Lochlan hesitated, as if caught off guard by the question. That reaction did not make sense to her.

"No...I don't believe he is," he said, and then his eyes lowered. "But...he may very well abuse you."

"What? What the hell is the difference?"

"It's...hard to explain."

"Well you better start trying," she said, assertively, and watched Lochlan's jaw tense as he closed down on her. Her eyes widened as his silence continued. "Lochlan…"

"His...tribulations have had a bit of an affect on him. His outbursts are not always his fault. I just want you to be aware of that."

Sarah's scowl scowled harder. What the hell was he getting at?

"Are you saying working with this dangerous, mystery-magic makes him violent?" she asked, her stare unwavering as he looked, plainly, taken aback. He blinked at her, before the uncertainty smoothed from his face, and his lips curled in a gentle smile.

"That's one way to put it, I suppose. I'm just telling you to be careful," he said, evenly. "I've upset you, I understand. ...But I don't want to jade your opinion of him by trying to tell you what you honestly already know. You've already met him, remember?" he said, now urgently trying to correct himself it seemed. Sarah drew back from him and crossed her arms.

"Yes, and I saw nothing of the temper you keep referring to. He was a bit of an ass, yes. Certainly high-handed, but...God, is that what his parents were talking about when they wished me luck? Was it out of pity?"

"Yes."

The simplicity of Lochlan's response had Sarah glaring up at him. He was just staring at her, as if he was forcing his stare through her.

"Why would they pity me Lochlan?"

She watched as he frowned. Watched as he did everything he could stop himself.

"Because they think there is a chance he may actually say yes."

The passion in Sarah's expression fell dreadfully and a deep disconcerted frown creased her face. She did not like that response. Not at all.

"Is he going to hurt me, Lochlan?" she asked, and again, caught sight of the same flash of pity she'd seen in his parents. Lochlan paused before responding. He wasn't sure how to answer.

"I...don't know. Do you think he will hurt you?"

The fact that he was asking her that struck her. How the hell was she supposed to know?

"I...I really didn't think so. No. Jareth was...a lot of things. But I was never afraid of him. He never touched me. He never gave me any reason to think he wanted to hurt me," she said, her eyes drifting away as the memories came back. He was intimidating, sure, but in a completely different way. And yes, while he had sent a cleaner after her, she'd since come to acknowledge that the danger wasn't real. If Jareth really wanted to hurt her, he would have. Plain and simple.

Lochlan tilted his head as he listened.

"Well then, what exactly are you fretting about?" She peered up at him but had nothing to say. Lochlan tore his eyes away from her. "You don't strike me as someone who would let another's opinion sway your own anyway. Perhaps you should trust your instincts and rely on the knowledge that only you have." He spoke to her frankly, though she only pursed her lips in response. This was dumb. Jareth's parents seemed to have a very particular opinion of him, and it would be foolish of her not to take it seriously. It'd been five years since she'd last seen him. Five years since he'd asked her to stay and she refused without blinking. She wondered, suddenly and for the first time, what his reaction would be to seeing her again, how his regard of her had changed, and what it ever was to begin with. Taking cue from her brooding, Lochlan stepped towards her and caressed her shoulder in a comforting gesture.

"You're making me very nervous, Lochlan. Maybe you shouldn't have said anything."

"Forgive me. That was not my intention. I voiced an intrusive thought. One that I now think was unwarranted. I simply felt it wrong to leave you blind to the circumstances. His Highness is prone to violence. That is a fact. Whether or not that violence will be directed at you is a complete unknown. I only wanted-"

"To warn me. Yeah, I got it." Her tone was sharp and dismissive, her hand swatting away his as she took a step back. He admired her strength. Admired how, even when faced with a moment of genuine fear, she managed to control and subdue it. She was irritated. She was defensive. She was the first person he actually thought stood a real chance with him.

"...Are you alright?"

A few moments had passed, and the perturbed silence gradually lulled. Sarah stood, with her arms tightly crossed, and glowered to the side at nothing.

"I don't know. We'll see what happens, I guess," she said, and shook her head as her gaze lowered. Regardless of her concerns, she had agreed to this. They were stranded on a boat in the middle of the ocean in another fucking dimension, so it wasn't like she had any other choice. Even if Jareth was dangerous, more dangerous than she already knew, she told herself she had enough resolve to see it through...no matter what that meant.

"That's the spirit," Lochlan said, lightheartedly. Sarah scoffed, huffing impulsively. She couldn't help it. Lochlan's expression softened. "Would...you like to see something interesting?" Sarah peered up at the inflection in his voice. Her arms were still crossed, but her grip loosened as intrigue took the place of aggravation. Her gaze crossed with Lochlan's, who then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a jagged piece of dark-tinted glass.

"What is that?" she asked. Lochlan turned it in his hand and then offered it to her.

"It's just glass. But don't worry, the edges aren't sharp as they look."

With skepticism, she accepted the trinket and looked down at it, at a loss for what to do next. Lochlan turned and looked ahead towards the sun. It was still setting, sunken about halfway beneath the horizon. Sarah had been standing with her back to it until this point. It was too bright for her to face directly.

"Use that to look at the horizon, right where the sun meets the water," he said. Sarah blinked, not quite sure she was ready to accept his obvious deflective ploy, but did so all the same. She turned towards the sun, closing her eyes painfully before shielding them with the glass. Her eyes fluttered when they opened, a series of bright dots fading away as her vision adjusted. She could see the sun this way, see the ocean and the horizon and...something else.

There. Just barely. At the very edge of the horizon. There was a pinprick of a silhouette. It wavered and vibrated with the heat of the setting sun. She had no idea if this was the thing she was supposed to be looking at, but nothing else stood out to her.

"What...what is that?" she asked, keeping the shard in front of her eyes as she peered back at Lochlan. He'd placed his hands on his hips and tilted his head. His eyes stared unblinking at the sun, as if the brightness of its rays did not bother him in the slightest.

" _That_ is what you know as The Castle Beyond The Goblin City."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Ho ho, dear reader, still inching ever closer to our *increasingly mysterious* fae prince. Don't worry, their paths will finally cross in the next chapter. And let me tell you, I just CANNOT wait for that...except I can. Because I'm going to wait another week to post it =P. I don't think I put any Easter eggs in this one...maybe. I don't remember. =P Anyway, tootles


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- I know, I know...I'm definitely late with this one haha. To skirt the blame, both my beta and back up beta were super busy with work this month, so I've just been sitting on this chapter for several weeks. Alas, she is here, for your reading pleasure...

* * *

**Chapter 5, Reconciliation**

* * *

The next day passed fairly quickly. The rock of the boat, along with Sarah's minor stupor, had made for a rather heavy night's sleep that endured until almost noon. When she finally woke, it was due to a harsh beam of light that was glaring at her through the window. She winced and shielded herself from it before sitting up.

She blinked slowly and ran her tongue against the roof of her mouth. It felt cottony. She needed water...and a toothbrush.

With a bit of a groan, she stretched her arms and stood, poured herself a glass of water and downed it in a couple of gulps. She sighed and looked around for a clock. There wasn't one, but she could hear the sound of the crew well at work just outside her door. She dug in her backpack for her toothbrush and toothpaste. At least she'd remembered to pack proper toiletries.

When she exited her cabin, she was wearing a fresh t-shirt and jeans-which felt so much more comfortable to her than that dress. She moved onto the deck, smiling and greeting all the men she'd met the previous night.

"Good morning, My Lady."

"Good day!"

"Good morning, lass. Did you sleep well?"

It still surprised her just how pleasant and polite all these sailors were. Was she expecting them to be scallywags? Pirates? Lechers riddled with scurvy? She felt stupid then, realizing she was the one holding the most prejudices. None of them had even acknowledged the fact that she was human. Why did that seem so odd to her?

"Ah, you're finally awake." Sarah turned and looked up at Lochlan who, at some point, had come to stand by her side.

"Yeah...it seems kind of late. What time is it?" she asked. Lochlan pulled back his sleeve to reveal a very fancy-looking watch.

"Just past noon. I was thinking of checking in on you before too much longer, actually."

"Holy. Noon? Wow. I don't think I've slept in that late in...years," she said, scratching her head awkwardly as she stretched her neck. Again, waking up another day in the Underground had her feeling great and something more than well-rested. Would this feeling continue to grow indefinitely?

"So you slept well then? We hit a surge during the night. Made the waters a bit choppy. It didn't disturb you, did it?"

"Huh? No. Not at all. I slept like a rock," she said, smiling and waving at another deckhand who walked by.

"You've made quite an impression on the crew," Lochlan said, his tone vague but with enough inflection to have her peering back at him shrewdly.

"So it seems," she replied, with a ghostly little smile. Lochlan grinned and tilted his head at her.

"What are you wearing? Did the General not provide you with a new dress for today?"

Sarah blinked and looked over herself.

"Yeah...he did. I just...feel better wearing my own clothes. As you keep reminding me, I may not get to wear them for much longer, so…" Her voice trailed off and she pursed her lips. He wasn't about to try and tell her to change her clothes, was he?

"I see...is that what you plan to wear when you meet with His Highness?"

Sarah blinked again.

"Is that alright?" she countered, testing the waters. Lochlan huffed and brought a hand to his hip.

"I suppose. If it makes you feel more comfortable. Though, like you said, should you come to stay here you'll need to dress the part."

"Understood," Sarah said, giving him a sharp salute as her eyes roamed away.

"Ah, Lord Leche! Is that our mysterious guest I see?"

Sarah turned and looked up, her eyes trailing the stairs to find the source of the voice that had called out to them. There was a man descending - older - with a grey-peppered beard and a wide-brimmed, navy blue coat. Lochlan turned as well and took a step closer to Sarah.

"Indeed Captain! Seems our sleeping beauty here has finally returned to life," he said, shooting her a teasing side-eye as he spoke. Sarah narrowed her eyes but bit her tongue. The Captain came off the last step and moved to stand in front of them. He was wearing a tattered black hat, and removed it as he bowed low before her.

"Ah, so sleeping was she? And here I feared my crew had put her off for company," he said, holding his hat to his chest as he straightened and looked her square in the eye. "I am Captain Pomona of His Majesty's Royal Navy. Pleasure to meet you, My Lady."

Sarah nodded her head but contended whether or not to add a curtsy. Since she was wearing jeans, she opted not to.

"The pleasure is mine, Captain," she said, eyeing him as he situated his hat back atop his head.

"I apologize for greeting you so late into our voyage. I had intended to invite you and Lord Leche to dine with me in my chambers last evening, though I was told you'd already chosen to entertain the crew in the galley."

Sarah's eyes widened subtly as he said that, wondering if there was any nuance to his use of the word entertain.

"Oh...forgive me, Captain. I'm not familiar with the customs here. Was it inappropriate for me to do so?" she asked, masking her worry with just enough tact. Lochlan spied on her with amusement. Hm, it must have been the alcohol that gave her such disregard the previous night.

"Inappropriate? Of course not! A fine lady such as yourself choosing to venture down into the depths of my humble vessel and make merry with my men? I should be thanking you. Just look at the boost in morale you've given them!" he said, smiling widely and gesturing about the ship. Sarah felt her cheeks blush a little, suddenly self-conscious of all the hi's and hello's she'd been receiving. "Most of the women we ferry never leave their cabin. T'is a bit depressing, really. I hear you even won the pot!"

Sarah forced a chuckle and raised an awkward hand to the back of her head.

"Heh...yeah. I think they let me win though. It was all in good fun."

"Indeed," he said, with a smile. With hands on hips, he inhaled deeply and turned to look over their surroundings. "I believe we'll be arriving at port well before nightfall, so I'm sad to say I shall miss another opportunity to dine with you. But feel free to check in with the first mate should you need anything at all," he said. Sarah blinked, sensing a subtle dismissive air about him. Apparently their conversation was at its end.

"I will. Thank you, Captain," she replied, with a nod.

"Lord Leche."

"Captain." Lochlan bowed his head and watched as the Captain left them. Sarah stood quietly, again surprised by the lack of differing social nuance between their two peoples.

"He seems nice," she muttered. Lochlan turned, looking out over the deck.

"Mhm."

"Actually, everyone seems nice. It's a little suspicious really."

"Why do you say that?"

Sarah took a step or two into the sun, tilting her head back in Lochlan's direction for discretion.

"Your species' reputation precedes you in my world. You're not exactly known for being kind, let alone sincere."

Lochlan smiled and crossed his arms behind his back as he stepped in line with her.

"What are we known as?" he asked, impishly. Sarah peered up at him and narrowed her eyes.

"Tricksters."

His grin cracked to reveal a hint of fang, though he only shrugged.

"Hm...I suppose the same could be said for your species in my world."

"Really?"

"Of course," he said, and moved around to stand in front of her. "Here, our legends render humans as boorish, violent, untrustworthy things. I know a few of your stories...if our contracts became scrupulous and manipulative, it is only because your people kept finding ways of betraying them. So you see, your kind, like mine, is known least of all for their sincerity. But...as we stand here now, I'd say a story is but a story. Would you agree?" He was smiling at her, leaning down towards her playfully. A couple locks of curly black hair fell over his forehead. He was very handsome, admittedly; though lacking, by all account, the venereal intensity she remembered of Jareth.

"Yeah...you're right. I think my expectations about this place have been...skewed," she said, darting her eyes away as he straightened.

"Not without good reason, I imagine."

"You imagine right."

* * *

The remainder of the day passed with a quiet sense of unease for Sarah as they drew closer and closer to their destination. This build up was killing her, and she could only hope the apex of their journey would be as anticlimactic as possible. It was impossible not to think about. Not to imagine. What the hell was she supposed to say to him? Would he even agree to see her?

She kept herself distracted well enough by conversing with the crew. She learned that ferrying supplies to the island was their permanent posting, which only sailed out every three weeks and made for a rather boring career. Their general good health now made sense to her, along with why they kept repeating how exciting her presence onboard was. They were decent folk, she determined, and thought maybe it might be worthwhile to establish a real relationship with them. Maybe they could sneak her special treats from the mainland.

It was about six o'clock when she retired to her cabin. She'd rested for a while thereafter, but now she was starving. She dug through her bag and nearly whimpered at the single bag of chips that remained. She'd forgotten, stupidly, that before going to bed the previous night, her (maybe actually genuinely a little bit drunk) self had binge-eaten the remainder of her food. Damn it. Oh well. With any luck, she would be stepping back on board within just a few hours and heading home. That's when her hand paused before zipping up her bag. If it was a four day journey to get here...would she have to starve for the four day journey back?

She was startled by a knock at her door. She turned back and ushered them in.

"Come in!"

Lochlan entered the room, leaning inside the door frame without stepping in fully.

"Prepare yourself, dear. We're here."

Not realizing just how long her catnap had been, Sarah grabbed her bag and headed out onto the deck with surprise. Lochlan was standing just outside the door, waiting to close it behind her, like a gentleman, while she ignored him completely to take in the sight.

She saw a beach, not as close as she'd expected, and a small run-down excuse for a "port". A dock was all it was, really - uneven, faded planks that stretched out into the water towards them. Her eyes looked beyond it, beyond the beach and the brush, to a place that left her stricken with both awe and terror. The memories came, wildly vivid, along with a knot that turned over in her stomach. Dust floated in the breeze, over hill and dale, and chiseled blocks. Tall walls and obelisks, broken columns, and a path that led, twistedly, dauntingly, through the foreboding shadow of the Labyrinth.

Lochlan watched as recognition hit and unnerved her, as her mouth opened, and dried, and then closed shut again. What he wouldn't give to know her thoughts at that very moment.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Sarah flinched, caught up in her gander, and then turned her wide gaze to him.

"Y-yeah. I'm fine. It's just...finally hitting me, I guess. I never...thought I would see this place again." Her voice was soft, subdued. Lochlan's expression softened as her eyes quickly darted away from him and went back to the scene. She could see the castle far off, small, and standing seemingly unimposing atop a hill that surveyed all. She remembered the first time she'd gazed upon it. Remembered how unimpressed she had been. The feeling was different now. The awareness she now had was of a caliber a child was simply incapable of understanding. She was no longer a child. This was not a game. She was not fighting to save anyone. Not even herself. This place was dangerous. This man was dangerous. And she was heading, with open eyes, straight for him.

* * *

The ship docked within another twenty minutes. The deckhands bustled about with focus, leaving Sarah to stand awkwardly at the sidelines. Something she hadn't seen right away was a carriage house hidden in the trees just to the left of the pier. As they came nearer, several carts and carriages with their drivers emerged to await them. The planks of the boarding ramp were lowered, and no sooner were the crew unloading all of their wares to the custody of the convoy below.

"Are you about ready?" Lochlan asked. Sarah had been dazed for a while now, but blinked herself from it readily.

"Yeah. Let's go."

They dismounted the ship, much to the sad little smiles of the crew, and headed down the pier towards the procession of carriages. Lochlan took her to the center, to the only covered, decently-decorated one of the bunch. The fae on the island did not acknowledge her, and she could only assume it was because they'd experienced the inconsequential coming and going of women far too often.

The carriages and carts were not pulled by horses, but by strange woolly creatures with six legs and spiraled horns like a ram's. Sarah had never seen or imagined such things. Her wandering mind wondered if it would be okay to pet one.

Lochlan opened the door for her and ushered her in. He sat across from her and tied back the curtains on the windows so she could get a good view of her surroundings. Sarah placed her hands on the cushioned bench she sat on. It was covered in velvet, a faded red that had clearly seen better days. She ignored this observation, along with all the little nicks in the carvings and tears in the tasseled coverings of the canopy above.

"How long before we reach the castle?" she asked. Lochlan was leaning out a window, gesturing to someone on the outside.

"About an hour. We have an expedited route."

Sarah pursed her lips and lowered her eyes. She was starting to feel awkward -anticipation finally settling in. She heard the voice of a man outside their carriage say, "We're ready for departure, Lord Leche." Lochlan nodded and leaned back in his seat. Sarah furrowed her brow on him.

"So...what's the deal with all the pseudonyms anyway? Being introduced to people is starting to confuse me."

Lochlan looked up at her. There was a sternness to her words that betrayed her well-muted anxiety. She was trying to distract herself. He crossed an ankle over his knee and leaned back in his seat.

"Ah...well, firstly, they're not pseudonyms -mostly," he said, crossing his arms leisurely as he stared at her. "Our birth name is what holds power over us. That is the thing we must keep secret. Our surname is, generally, what most folk refer to themselves as, or a derivative of it."

"Oh. I see. So your last name is Leche?" she asked.

"Yes."

"But...what about the Captain? I thought the ship's name was Pomona."

"It is," he replied, falling forward a bit as the carriage jolted unexpectedly. Sarah caught herself as well. Guess they were off. "The Captain's name is an extension of his position. When it comes to more prominent military officials and aristocracy, it is often custom for their true names to be disregarded entirely and replaced with a standardized title -a pseudonym, as you said."

"I see. I guess that makes sense..."

"Yes. It is much safer that way," he continued, calling back her attention as it fell to her lap. "For instance, Their Majesties are often referred to as King Erewhon and Queen Erewhon. Through a bit of general mind-wiping, their real names are no longer known by anyone. Even by their son."

"Oh. Really?" Sarah asked, feeling surprised (a tad concerned over Lochlan's casual use of the phrase "mind-wiping"), and a little bit sad that Jareth didn't know his own parents' names. Then again...parents were usually referred to as Mom or Dad, so maybe it wasn't that big of a deal... "That's intense…" she continued. "So, Jare- I mean, His Royal Highness' public name is Prince Erewhon?"

"Exactly."

Sarah mirrored his posture by crossing her own arms and legs.

"Geez. If your names are so important, I'm surprised you told me yours so easily."

"Why wouldn't I? It was the only way for you to summon me."

She paused at his impartial tone.

"Yeah but…"

"Should I not trust you?" he interrupted, arching a brow as she frowned. "Come now, you're a human with no skill in magic. Even if your intentions were nefarious, you could do little more than summon me here or there. I'm not particularly concerned with that bit of intimacy," he explained, tossing a hand to and fro as he spoke. If he meant to bring her ease, he failed. A knitted brow joined her frown and her eyes lowered in contemplation.

Intimacy...it was intimate wasn't it? To know that about a fae. To know something about someone that so few knew...something that gave you literal power over them…hm. She worried over the reason she was given Jareth's name, why Jareth had given it to Hoggle at all.

"What if I told someone else? Someone who could do more than summon you?" she asked, pulling herself from distraction. Lochlan tilted his head, his expression blank.

"Will you?"

"...No."

"Well then?" Her disconcerted look contrasted perfectly to his open one. "Keeping one's name a secret is more common for those who are prone to inciting enemies, or those of a delicate social standing. I am neither of those things," he explained, feeling the need to help her. And now her head twitched in confusion

"You're a lord," she pointed out. Lochlan's eyes roamed away and he leaned forward a little.

"Yes...by title. However, I have no lands to ward over, no tithes to collect or tenants to manage. My parents were given a manor to live in, but nothing else. My station was bestowed by The King when he deemed me His Highness' retainer. There's little more to it than that."

"Oh. I see."

"Speaking of all this...may I ask how it is you came to know His Highness' name?" Sarah's gaze, which had likewise wandered off, sprang back to Lochlan's. He was staring at her curiously. "I was very much surprised to hear you speak it so casually. Did he offer it to you?"

"Hm? ...No. No." and she shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "One of the goblins mentioned it to me. Kind of in passing actually…"

"Really…"

"That's odd, isn't it?" she asked, her brow drawn tight as she observed Lochlan pinching his chin in thought. "If it's such a close-kept secret, how the hell did Hoggle -of all people- even know to begin with?"

Lochlan pondered a moment, then he shrugged.

"Perhaps His Highness wanted you to know his name."

"But why?"

There was defense in her voice, something Lochlan ignored.

"Why do you think?"

"So...I would summon him? ...I summoned him well enough before without his true name..." Her voice trailed off and she shook her head. "Why?"

"I don't know. Perhaps you'll get the chance to ask him."

She felt deflated by the passivity of his words. He was leaning forward, his elbows pressed to his thighs, and his hands were clasped together. Sarah fiddled her own hands in her lap as she glanced out the window. They were passing by trees, a young forest really. Sarah thought that odd, and then she realized just how much greenery had painted the island's landscape when she'd first viewed it from the boat. The terrain here seemed...different than she remembered. Was the desert on the other side?

"He...he asked me to stay, you know. After I solved the labyrinth. He wanted me to stay here." She kept her eyes on the trees, but she didn't need to see his expression to know that he was shocked.

"What?"

"I said no. Obviously. Should I be...worried about that?" She curled her fingers as she glanced back at him. He had straightened in his seat and was staring at her intently.

"You refused him and he let you go?" he asked, with a contrary sense of both bewilderment and alarm. Sarah's look of disconcertion returned.

"Yeah."

Lochlan's eyes flickered down, a peculiar thought falling into place, before rising back to hers with an accompanying shrug.

"...Then why would you be worried?"

Sarah pursed her lips and only hummed in response, mulling over the significance of his particular use of the word "let". She then brought her gaze back to the window, and leaned towards it to rest her jaw on the heel of her hand. There was definitely something odd about this forest. The species of the trees were unfamiliar to her, mostly dead, though with a few misplaced buds, and for the most part were growing straight out of the sand. She felt the carriage drawing to a halt, and peered out the window towards the head of the procession where she saw the very high outer wall of the labyrinth obstructing their path. There were banners hanging on either side, torn and faded. They featured the same sigil she'd seen at the garrison, only...somehow different.

She looked back when Lochlan suddenly leaned forward in his seat.

"Ah. We're at the wall already, I see. Pardon me for a moment," he said, and no sooner exited the carriage. She heard him move around the back of it to her side, and she leaned out the window to watch him as he walked the line of the caravan up to the wall. There were only four carts ahead of them, so she could observe his actions well.

There was an oddly carved block placed at eye-level within the wall. It looked like it had been recessed, with runes and markings foreign to her. She watched Lochlan pull something out of his coat, something round and darkly colored. Wordlessly, he placed it within the recess of the carving. Sarah's eyes widened as a steady rumble then began to course through the ground and the walls before them, and then opened to create a perfectly straight path cutting directly to the castle. Lochlan removed the object and placed it back in the confines of his coat's inner pocket, and then made his way back to their carriage.

He climbed in with a bit of a skip in his step, smoothing out the tail of his coat as he re-situated himself like nothing ever happened.

He knocked on the wall of the carriage twice and the procession started moving again.

"So um...what was that?" Sarah asked. Lochlan, not quite paying attention, peered over at her with a widened gaze.

"Oh. How rude of me," he said, smiling cheerfully. "I had to unlock the gate," he explained. Sarah's expression was left wholly unsatisfied.

"Um...care to explain a little further?"

Lochlan reached into his coat and withdrew the object he had used moments before. It was a stone, black, roughly shaped like that of a kidney bean. It was about the same size as his hand and, as she could tell by the way he was handling it, was somewhat heavy.

"This is a keystone," he said, tossing it up in the air and catching it again. "We use these to operate the labyrinth."

"Oh," she said, caught off guard. "I didn't know the labyrinth could be operated," she added. Lochlan nodded.

"Of course. We designed it after all. It wouldn't be very convenient to have to solve the damn thing every time we get a shipment of cabbages." He placed the rock back in his coat, which she now discerned had been weighted in that spot. She cocked her head to one side as she thought.

"Hm...why did you build it then? What's it for?" That was something she'd never really thought about. But now that she did, it was something that felt very odd to her. Lochlan raised a brow and glanced away.

"Well, I didn't build it. My people did. A very long time ago," he said, sounding somewhat distant. "It was...for defensive purposes." There was hesitation in his voice but Sarah failed to notice it. He was thankful, as it allowed him to move on from the subject. "I say, you may want to save some of these questions for His Highness. You'll run out of things to talk about," he deflected, cheekily. Sarah glanced at him with a disingenuous smirk.

"Uh-huh. I'm sure." As her eyes stared out the window, she realized the tessellating bricks of the labyrinth wall that guided them would not change, and so turned her attention away from it. "Speaking of...say we do have nothing to talk about and I'm sent on my merry way, is it really going to be another four days journey back? I ran out of food."

Lochlan's brow lifted but he stifled a laugh. Instead, he reached into a different pocket on his coat and pulled out a crystal.

"No, actually. Before bringing you to meet His Majesty, I informed him of our arrangement. He gave me a new crystal with enough power to send you directly home. Should it be warranted." Sarah grew more attentive as she stared at the crystal. That really was...generous of him.

"I see...how considerate."

"Yes. His Majesty is most magnanimous. So, you really have nothing to fret. Though I'm sure you're positively famished, I assure you will be dining on a proper meal tonight -in one world, or another."

Whether or not he'd meant that reassuringly, Sarah found her eyes glaring reflexively. One world or another. Hm…

The remainder of the ride was spent in idle chatter. Sarah tried, unsuccessfully, to distract herself by asking as many questions as she could. Lochlan obliged willingly, sensing her motivations, which made the time pass very quickly. And then, finally, their carriage came to an abrupt halt, sending her nearly falling into Lochlan, as a series of shouts were exchanged among the drivers. Oh shit. They were here. This was it. There really was no turning back.

Lochlan dismounted from the cabin of their carriage without reservation and turned to offer her a hand. She accepted and stepped down tentatively. She had no idea what to expect. No idea of their current surroundings.

They were under a covered pavilion, on a cobblestone path surrounding a loading/unloading bay that looped back to the road whence they came. Sarah took a few steps and stared all around. She couldn't see much. The ceiling was low and the surrounding walls of the labyrinth were high, leaving her to assume this was something like a backdoor into the place.

The native fae, and a few tall goblins, went about their work, unloading crates and barrels without sparing her a single glance. Lochlan, still holding onto her hand, gently brought her away and towards an open archway that led into the castle.

There was a bit of acoustics in the room, making their footsteps echo as they ventured away from the staff.

There were several halls and doors tangenting from this one space, including a door atop a short stairwell which Lochlan brought her to. He ushered her within and shut it quietly behind them.

"Where...where are we going? What's the game plan here exactly? I feel like we just snuck in," Sarah said, a bit sheepishly, as she scampered close to Lochlan's side. Lochlan peered down at her and grinned.

"That's because we have. I told you, Jareth is unaware of your visit. He may very well refuse you without even seeing you otherwise," he said. Sarah huffed. So apparently he was not so sure of this match after all? "The game plan, as it were, is to find him before he finds us."

He let go of her hand to open another door, and Sarah took the moment to observe the castle. It was as she remembered: large, grey, stone blocks that were precisely carved, and high walls with vaulted ceilings. It was a bit drafty, causing her to grip her biceps with her hands. There was very little adornment, save a rug here or a lonely table there.

She followed after Lochlan and kept quiet as they moved deeper into the castle. She knew it was large on the outside, but it was impossible to discern its limits from within. It felt like they'd walked for a long while, having yet to come across a single person. The silence was deafening. Like a vacuum.

"Is it normal for it to be so empty?" she asked, needing to break the silence.

"Yes. Down here at least. Only certain parts of the castle are in regular use," he explained. Sarah continued to glance around. That seemed...strange.

"Why?"

"There isn't enough staff to warrant its upkeep. I told you, His Highness resides here for research purposes. It is not a place to hold Court, nor entertain visitors." Sarah pursed her lips as she accepted his words. Gee, what a lifeless, boring place this seemed. She wondered about the goblins then, how they fit into all of this. Before she could ask, they rounded a corner and happened upon the first sign of life. There was a guard standing at the frame of a door. At least, she thought it was a guard. It was fully armoured and completely motionless. Maybe it was a prop. Lochlan stopped and addressed the suit. "Where is His Highness?"

The guard twitched into life, turned its head towards them, and bowed.

"In the drawing room on the twenty-third floor," he said, then straightened into his original stance. Sarah drew her brow. His mannerism seemed artificial, mechanical. Lochlan nodded in acknowledgement and turned to lead them down a different hallway.

"How...did he know that?" Sarah asked. They were going up stairs now, a lot of stairs.

"It is their job to know."

Sarah glared at the back of Lochlan's head at such a cryptic response, but said nothing. She felt...wrong. This felt wrong. Why the hell was she sneaking around?

After reaching what Lochlan had informed her was the twenty-third floor, they made their way to an area of the castle that was noticeably different. It was better decorated, featuring paintings and tapestries on the walls, rugs on the polished marble floors, and sturdy furniture adorned with fresh bouquets of otherworldly flowers. Even the lighting was different -oiled sconces instead of torches. He brought her to the end of a hallway which cut sharply left, though the space in front of them extended into something of an open lounge. The walls opposite her and to her right were lined with large, open bay windows. A rather ominous-looking door stood on the wall to the far left, the room it granted entrance to framed by the hallway adjacent to her. In the area before them, were a set of very fine chairs and a love-seat, a large, glass-topped coffee table nestled in the center. It was nicer than what she'd seen at the garrison. After her last experience in the castle, she was surprised.

Lochlan led her to the seating area and turned to face her.

"Wait here for a moment. It would probably be best for me to see him first." Sarah worried her brow at his sudden timidity. Like he was coddling her. She was even more worried over the fact that she needed it. She frowned and nodded, wordlessly. Lochlan held her gaze for another moment, and then sighed. "I know this is strange. Unprecedented. But please, be confident -as you have thus far." She nodded again and he turned away from her. She idled back as he went towards the door she had spied, tearing her eyes away from it as he knocked twice and then slipped inside.

Sarah teetered on her heels in bitter anticipation for what felt like ages. It was quiet. Dead quiet. She had no fucking idea what to do with herself. Against Lochlan's request, she moved away from her spot. She couldn't stand it any longer. If Jareth opened the door, the first thing he would see was her staring back and...she just could not handle the awkwardness. She left the lounge and paced at the edge of the hall. It was so quiet. Too fucking quiet. She was about to walk back towards the door when a sudden Boom! startled her clear out of her skin.

Sarah actually jumped, she was so on edge, and a hand raised to her chest as her panicked eyes darted to the wall at her left. The sound, whatever it was, had come from within the room. She imagined a very annoyed fae prince slamming his hands down on a table. She turned on her heel and scuttled away.

She hid around the edge of the corner, not knowing what else to do. On the other side of the wall, which her back pressed against, she could start to hear voices, growing in tenor and very clearly in argument. Sarah felt an unwelcome flare of tension shoot down her spine, and she removed herself from the wall. Why was she so nervous? Did she have reason to be? Fuck yes she had reason to be!

She pressed a hand to her forehead and started to pace once more, giving in to move a little farther down the hallway with each lap. They were still arguing, but it was impossible to discern whose voice from whose let alone the words they said.

And then it was quiet again. Perfectly quiet. Sarah paused. She looked up at the wall beside her and her heart froze in her chest. What did that mean? Feeling another wave of panic, she gave in to the insecurity and began walking, briskly, back towards the lounge. Lochlan had told her not to leave and here she was almost on the complete other end of the hall.

Sarah stared at the floor, not paying the least bit of attention, as she approached the corner and thus ran, head first, into a very, very, unhappy Goblin King.

She hit him with such force it actually sent her bouncing back. She caught her footing, recovering ungracefully, as her eyes darted up and locked, searingly, onto Jareth's. Her wide gaze, now widening even more, turned pitiful, like a rabbit cowering before a hungry wolf. In turn, his eyes -as blue and intense as she remembered- darkened with recognition and, as she took a cautious step in retreat, his sneer widened just for her and curled into the most wicked, awful smile she'd ever seen.

His posture shifted, turned something dangerous, and the brightness she'd once seen in his gaze dimmed as it fell, brazenly, over her.

"Oh. Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

He spoke at her rather than to her, and her expression tensed in offense. That single, condescending statement was more than enough to pull her from her daze, and she blinked away all traces of panic in a flash.

"Afraid not. Nice to see you too," she said, guardedly, as she straightened from her fumble, trying and failing to mirror the confidence of his posture. While he stood with arms lowered, fully exposed, she instead crossed hers defensively and angled her feet away. Jareth's gaze caught sight of this, of her instinctive preparation to flee, and his smile renewed. He took a step towards her, and then another when she challenged him by not stepping away. By the time he stood before her it was too late to regret her bravado. His scent wafted the air in the small space between them and she remarked, with belligerence, that he smelled positively decadent. Her eyes flickered reflexively to his long, blond hair as it shifted over his shoulders in reaction to the, quite feral really, tilt of his head as he regarded her.

"Your name...it's Sarah, is it not?"

His voice was low, a salacious rumble -though she knew that was only her own wicked nerves having fun with her. She swallowed, and steeled her expression, unsure whether or not to call his bluff - while secretly contended over the fact that her immediate reaction to him was absolutely not what she had expected it to be. Thankfully, she'd had several days to prepare for such a scenario. She forced her eyes to stare through him and she arched a cool brow.

"Is it?"

The audacity of her stare on him brought even more wicked delight to his expression. He was dressed in all-black, sporting a tight, buffed-leather, Napoleon jacket that was buttoned up to the well of his throat. She tried not to observe him any more than that. At least right now. She needed all of her bearings. She did, however, take particular notice of the way the markings around his eyes seemed to darken, just a shade or two, as he stared at her.

"So, you're the one they've sent to me? Really?" he asked, mockingly, before turning and looking over his shoulder. "Getting a bit desperate, are we Lochlan?" he called out, holding back a laugh, before turning to stare down at her once more. He was taller than she remembered. Or maybe, she simply found him more intimidating.

"As amusing as this situation is, can we get on with it already?" she asked. She was proud of herself for keeping her voice so strong. From the way his brow twitched in response, it clearly caught him off guard. Though not in any way that was beneficial to her.

"Get on with it?" he repeated, taking another small step towards her. Her eyes darted down to their feet, betraying her nerves, and she took a small step back. Damn it. He was trying to disarm her. She needed to stand her ground. Her eyes flickered back up, but this time caught sight of Lochlan standing at the mouth of the hall behind him. Their gazes crossed and he looked...worried.

"Yes. Lochlan seems to think you'll want to marry me. Tell him how wrong he is so I can go home." She tore her eyes away from Lochlan and brought them back to Jareth. She gripped her biceps tightly, her nails digging into her bare skin. Jareth's eyes lowered, not to her nervous mannerism, but to the way her breasts rose in reaction to the gesture.

"How many years has it been?" he asked, ignoring her comment and taking yet another, dangerous step towards her. Sarah gulped again. She was too damned nervous. Nervous, she acknowledged. Not afraid. No, it wasn't fear she was feeling. The effect his proximity and stare were having on her was something far more...crippling.

"Five," she stated. Flatly. Jareth's eyes narrowed, like he didn't believe her, then lowered, vacantly, for just a moment.

"Is that all?" he asked, then brought his gaze up to hers. The brightness was back, enhanced by the -now smokey- blue shadow surrounding it. He reached out to brush a lock of hair from her face, but when she flinched away his hand instead trailed lightly down her shoulder. He stifled another laugh. "You're not a little girl anymore."

"You'll have that," she said, tersely. She held her ground well, training her eyes on his nose while he continued to scrutinize her.

"...What are you wearing?" he asked. Sarah scowled.

"Clothes," she replied, and tried to step around him. She moved quickly, though not quickly enough as he caught her by the arm and spun her back. She landed against his torso, her free hand naturally rising to his chest to brace herself, which then immediately fell dead to her side.

"Jareth-" Lochlan called out, in warning it seemed -or rather she hoped. Sarah looked back at him, but he made no further effort to help her. She felt Jareth's grip on her arm twitch in response.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it? For us to talk." His last word was laced with aggression as he jerked on her arm and forcibly called her attention back to him. She caught his gaze with a bit of a gape. He was so damn close. "I admit, you've earned my curiosity."

Sarah scowled at his highhanded tone, his ridicule over her evident by the glimmer in his eyes. She tried to jerk her arm away from him but failed. "Great. So can I get your answer now, or what?" she asked. She felt his grip on her bicep flex, tugging her towards him subtly. She did not allow it.

"My answer? To what?" he asked, innocently. Sarah glared. He was trying to demean her. Force the words from her own mouth. As if she cared.

"Will you marry me, Jareth?" she asked, boldly, sarcastically, and without a single shred of interest. Unreceptive of her ire, Jareth tugged her harder until she stumbled into him. She gasped and wondered, fleetingly, why the hell Lochlan was just standing there letting this happen.

"I can only imagine the promises that were made to get those words tumbling, so readily, out of your mouth," he said. His free hand pressed up against the side of her face, petting her almost, as it moved into her hair. The feeling of his leather gloves was cool and alien against her skin, and she shied away from it. His fingers splayed until reaching the back of her head, where they then tightened and pulled at the hair of her nape. She snarled and jerked her head away.

"Let go of me," she said, through gritted teeth, as she pushed him away. She managed to spread the distance between them, but not free herself of his grip. His smile curled, and he cocked his head in a rather wicked manner.

"Such cruel eyes. One might think you don't actually want to be my bride," he teased, then, as she shoved him again, released his hold to send her stumbling back. She staggered and huffed, wielding a wary and dangerous look in her eye. Jareth regarded it well. His smile cemented. She glanced back at Lochlan, just to see if he was still there, and glared when his response was an uncomfortable shrug.

"I don't. But here I am, giving it the ol' college try," she said, waving a hand up in exasperation. She had promised, after all, to give the proposal an honest shot. Well shit. It'd been two minutes and look how things ended up. She looked away and unwittingly lowered her guard, something she regretted immediately. She heard him laugh, but had not the time to react when he was suddenly close to her once more. He wrapped an arm around her waist and hugged her to him. She glared and pushed back, but the way he only laughed harder at her was indication that such actions would get her nowhere. Instead she gripped the front of his jacket, the taut leather crinkling under her fingers. His eyes lowered to her, and again the heady aroma of him, now accompanied by the tickle of his hair against her cheek, brought her close to an entirely inappropriate moment of falter.

"I think you could stand to try a little harder," he said, provocatively, as the hand at the small of her back pressed her against him. Sarah's nostrils flared. This was not the Goblin King she remembered. No. The man she'd met that day was tamed by a child's eyes. This moment now should have been one of sheer disillusionment. But it wasn't. Because she was no longer a child. As the years brought her understanding, she'd come to know exactly what he was and what he had always been, and just how much danger her naivety had truly put her in because of it. He was a king. He was a creature. He was a man. And the way he looked at her now, the lack of reservation in his words and in his gaze, it was everything she had been anticipating. Everything she had been thinking about and preparing herself for. She'd told Lochlan she was never afraid of him. That was true, she wasn't. She was nervous. She was nervous in a way that had her fighting her thighs from pressing themselves together.

"You need to back off," she warned, turning away sharply when he suddenly leaned in and ran his nose along the side of her face. He inhaled her scent, his head twisting like the snake he was proving himself to be. Sarah tried to ignore it -the twinge that quivered through her at the feeling of his skin touching hers.

"This truly is remarkable," Jareth said, raising his free hand to grip her tightly by the jaw and direct her this way and that as he, apparently, inspected her. "My father really signed off on presenting you? How insulting. I am royalty. And you are what? Mortal? A crude child who's amounted to nothing more than the prevailing test of my patience? Do you have any idea what it is you've walked yourself into?" He was deriding her, attempting to assert his dominance through the difference in their stations. Please, she wasn't that thick. Nor that insecure for that matter. Sarah glared as best as she could and growled again.

"Listen you ass, I don't know who you think you are but your magnanimous father came to me. I am here as a Goddamn privilege and I will not be bullied by you," she snapped, pushing against him with all her might and, to her surprise, succeeded in escaping him. She moved away from him and rubbed the ache from her jaw. "If you're disgusted by my plebeian upbringing then even better. Now answer the damn question." She spoke commandingly, daringly, and stupidly. Jareth began to laugh with distaste, and the markings surrounding his eyes darkened a little more. Now they were black. A rich, smokey, malevolent black.

Jareth strode towards her quickly and disarmed her by creating a very intimate air of proximity. She held her ground once more, glaring up at him, and ignored the utter pang that was most definitely not anger that chose then of all times to surge through her. He was staring down at her. Their chests were nearly touching.

"Disgusted?" he asked, his smile curling up on one side and creasing his face. His tone dropped, lulled in a sense, something that she knew, somehow she knew, meant something bad for her. She heard Lochlan take a step towards them and the sound, the distraction, in that split second, was all Jareth needed. "No...you misunderstand. I am far from disgusted."

Sarah's hands were placed tightly on her hips. Those hands then sprang upward frantically when Jareth grabbed a hold of her face and tried to kiss her, shamelessly.

She lurched herself from the hold, outrage burning in her gaze, before winding back an arm and slapping him starkly across the face. The sound was loud, cutting the air and echoing down the hall. She actually gasped, surprised by her own instincts, or maybe it was in response to the even louder gasp of Lochlan. She peered back at him quickly and he looked...terrified. Her eyes widened with dread as she realized the precariousness of her actions, and she held her hand out in front of herself defensively. Her confidence faltered for just a moment as she watched Jareth's face, turned away from her in profile, steadily flush and reddened from the sting. He stood totally motionless, totally unreadable, and then a terrible, incorrigible smile spread across his face.

"Jareth…" Lochlan called out, slowly, calmly. Sarah glanced back nervously. Fuck. That tone from him was not reassuring, nor was the appeasing hand he'd raised towards him. Like he was baiting a Goddamn lion. She took another step back, turning to watch Jareth with caution.

He said nothing to Lochlan, but a strange, unnerving huff of laughter escaped him as he turned his head to confront Sarah again. Her eyes scoured his face, and she watched as the markings around his eyes began to slowly stretch down the length of it. His smile twitched. Like a tick. Like a snap in the air. "How...interesting," he muttered, with a slow, savouring blink.

When he opened his eyes they locked on hers and, with a speed too calculated to evade, he came at her and fisted a hand roughly at the back of her neck.

Jareth stepped towards her and simultaneously pulled her forward the remaining distance, ignoring her yelp and recoil, as his free hand grasped the side of her jaw. He angled her head sharply upwards, pressed down on her chin with his thumb until her mouth was painfully forced open, and kissed her.

Sarah felt her mind leave her. Even as the pressure of his thumb pressing into her chin failed to abate, even as the feeling of his tongue, wet and hot and brutal, thrusted between her lips, even as their teeth scraped and she whimpered, and pulled away, and bit down on him in response, her mind left her. Her eyes fought the urge to close and she scowled. Her mouth, opening wide with what she told herself was disgust, fed off his breath as his grip on her constricted. He growled at her. Really growled. With a sense of morbid gratification that she was shamefully enticed by. He saw the way her eyes parted open, in spite of herself, to stare at him, and he kissed her again. His lips molded to hers and sucked, and murmured, and bit. His touch was aggressive; but more than that, it was manipulative. And in reaction, her tongue bore into his mouth, greedily and contrarily, as a brief moment of abandon took her. He tasted of wine -something bold, and sweet, and bitter. He bit down sharply on her lip, and she whimpered, gasped, and did all she could to breathe as he fought with her for dominance. All of this happened within a few seconds, before she jerked herself clean away from him.

With a heavy breath, he released her. She staggered back, glaring as she wiped his saliva from her face. He was grinning, pleased with something other than himself, and regarded her carefully.

"What the fuck," she said, angrily, her posture on guard and ready to attack should he approach her again.

He hummed rather than respond, some dastardly thought musing through his mind. He kept his eyes locked strictly on her, on the way she regained her composure as she glowered at him, unblinking, with offense. He turned away from her then, to Lochlan, who still stood pitifully off to the side. "Well alright then," he said, and turned his back on them both. "Your timing could not have been better. We're about to serve dinner," he added, with a new, false sense of pleasantry in his tone. He took a step away from them and then glanced back, just slightly, at Sarah, who only stared back at him in bemused horror. "Please, help yourselves."

He was gone after that. Literally gone. Leaving Sarah to blink dumbly at the space he once occupied. She struggled on a breath but her heart quickly settled. When she was sure he was really gone, she turned and glared viciously at Lochlan.

"What the fuck was all that?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Oh boi. Sarah's finally on the island, so get ready for the good stuff. *wink*
> 
> Before you go, I'd like to spam you again with promotion of my Etsy shop. I'm currently running a pre-order on some of my Labyrinth glitter art (yes, art that is made with GLITTER). It ends on the 23rd (this sunday). If you have not yet seen my work, please check out my shop or insta/facebook under studio DarkBloom. I would really appreciate it =D
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6, Repose**

* * *

"Why the hell didn't you do anything Lochlan?" Sarah yelled, storming over to him and just barely restraining herself from punching him in the chest.

"What do you mean?" he asked, innocently. Sarah's eyes widened and this time she did reach out and shove him.

"Why didn't you stop him? I thought you were supposed to protect me?" There was outrage in her voice, but it was weak. Lochlan's brow furrowed as he stared down at her.

"There is a difference between feeling offended and feeling afraid. I didn't think you _needed_ me to intervene. Was I wrong?"

Sarah glared, her jaw tensed as she exhaled roughly through her nose. Dammit, he was right. She just wanted to be angry.

"So it's okay to stand there and watch him sexually assault me like that? Is that considered normal behavior for him?"

Lochlan glanced away from her to the spot where Jareth once stood. In contrast to Sarah's vehemence, he was very calm in thought.

"No...it's not. I've never seen him act that way around any of the others," he said, curiously, with a level tone that struck her. She felt herself calm a little and took a step back from him. "You really did...set him off."

"What does that mean exactly?" she asked, worriedly, with arms crossed. Lochlan tore his eyes away from the blank space of the hall, and a small smile flickered to life.

"It means...he's said yes."

"What? No. I definitely heard nothing of the sort," Sarah said, shaking her head as she glared. She was still reeling from his kiss. From his force and exhibitionist disregard. She could still taste him on her tongue. Feel him there. Dammit.

"That's probably why he kissed you. Testing your passions, as it were," he argued, to himself mostly. In truth he was beside himself. He was worried when Jareth had stormed away from him. He was angry, and that was never good when meeting with another. And yet...his responses to her were shocking. She'd insulted him. Badgered him. Struck him. For a moment he almost had intervened but...maybe she was different after all. Maybe he really did like her.

Lochlan's smile became more genuine as he mulled all this over. He really was an optimist. An optimist totally ignorant of the violently offended female still seething at his side.

"That's bullshit, Lochlan. What he did was a power play and nothing more. Damn -my mouth still hurts." She rubbed at her jaw but it was an act somewhat feigned. Beyond her anger, she didn't really care that he was rough with her. What that said about her, she'd deal with later. Lochlan peered down at her and his expression became a bit more serious.

"Sarah-" he said, and she glanced up. "It is my responsibility, under The King, to protect you, yes. But please understand, I shall _never_ intervene between you and His Highness unless I feel you are in immediate danger, or you ask for me to do so explicitly. I thought I'd made that clear. If not, I apologize," he said, which effectively quelled the remainder of her annoyance. Sarah frowned up at him, then sighed.

"I understand. He's still The Prince and he can do what he wants. I'll try to be more aware of myself, I guess." Her tone softened and the grip on her arms relaxed. Lochlan tilted his head, a little surprised at how easy that was.

"So...you're alright then?" he asked. She huffed.

"Heh. Yeah. It'll take a bit more than some pervy man-handling to bring me to my knees. I think I half-expected it from him anyway…" her voice trailed off at the end, hoping he wouldn't ask _why_ she had expected it. "So that was him accepting? You're sure?" she asked, changing directions. Lochlan nodded.

"Yes. Well...fairly certain. He would not have invited you to dinner otherwise."

Sarah pursed her lips. This was all vague, beating-around-the-bush, bullshit. And she wasn't sure she trusted it enough to indulge in this _dinner_ and thus commit herself to this world because of it. She hated the thought as soon as it emerged, but her conversation with Jareth was far from finished. She'd need to confront him again. And soon.

"Hrrmmm….Fine. Fine, let's just get this over with," she grumbled, tossing up her hands as she closed her eyes and shook her head. Lochlan smirked. Surely he was still in shock, otherwise he would be lifting her from the floor and twirling her with glee. His master had finally accepted a bride. So readily. With such vigor. His hope in her was renewed. Maybe now, he could finally heal.

"I'll show you to your room first. You can get changed there before dinner."

* * *

Begrudgingly, Sarah followed Lochlan throughout the castle to a wing he said would be designated and appropriated just for her. For now, most of the rooms were empty, but this meant nothing to her. He brought her to the bedroom and ushered her inside. She was surprised to find the trunk General Fostad had gifted her already standing in the center of the room in front of them.

The room was large, large for her anyway, and very delicately crafted. The floor here was made of dark wood planks, and the walls were covered in fresco with ornate crown moulding. There were vivid paintings lain into them, wildlife scenes of creatures and vixens frolicking in greenery. She'd have to inspect their detail later, for there was simply too much else to look at.

To the left, against the wall, was the bed. It was tall, very fluffed, and sported thick curved posts that emulated the trunks of trees and angled into a canopy of fine layers of light pink satin. There was a dresser and a vanity on the wall adjacent it. On the wall in front of her, to the right of the most prominent fresco, was a french door that led to a balcony. Further down, the wall cut diagonally and featured a white marble fireplace. There was a sitting area in front of it, a love seat and a couple of chairs. On the right wall was a triptych of windows with arched tops and metal, Gothic-style embellishments that dissected the glass panes. There were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that fit into the far right corner, and a decanting table beside it. She took a step further into the room and looked to the left again. Against the wall, to the left of the bed, was an open archway that led to a short corridor.

The ceiling was a series of rib vaults, featuring the same ornate detail as the moulding and the furniture. All in all, it was beyond extravagant. Way too much for her.

"So...this is mine?" she asked, skeptically. Lochlan closed the door behind them and moved towards the center of the room.

"Yes. Across the hall is a library and a drawing room. There is a corridor at the end of the hall that will give you quick access to the kitchens and, should you desire it, any of the other rooms in this wing can be fitted as you like."

"And where does that hall lead?" she asked, pointing towards the bed.

"Your spa."

"My spa?" Sarah repeated, not quite expecting that.

"It...is a bit more lavish than a typical washroom, though it does have all the usual necessities," he explained. Sarah nodded. She'd have to check that out later...

"Now that this wing is in use, there will be guards stationed outside your door and at the ends of the halls at all times-"

"Wait, what? Why do I need guards?" she asked. If no-one but Jareth and a few staff lived in the castle, then…

"For protection, of course," Lochlan said, unhindered, and knelt down to unclasp the locks on the trunk. "They will also be available for any information or errands you may need. If you're alone and need something, do not hesitate to ask it of them."

"Oh. Okay." That made a bit more sense to her… She imagined she'd find herself alone and probably lost quite often. Maybe it would be nice to have someone to ask for directions. ...Or to simply not feel alone.

"Fostad really was generous. There are some fine dresses here." Lochlan spoke to himself, with satisfaction, as he pulled out a deep, wine-colored gown. Sarah curled her lip at it. Damn. She had promised to _dress the part_ , as well. "How about this? You have such lovely pale skin. I think it will match your complexion nicely." He spoke to her cheerfully, with an honest smile to boot. It nearly struck her again how unimposing he was. Usually, if a man spoke to her in such a way, she would regard it as less than platonic. But not from Lochlan. No, Lochlan really was just...friendly.

"Sure," she said, walking towards him and taking the gown from his grasp. She turned away from him then, wondering where the hell she was supposed to get changed…

"There's a changing curtain against the wall there. Feel free to use it. Or, I can step out if you wish." His attention was kept on the trunk as he closed it back up, his tone detached and frank. Sarah looked away from him again.

"I'll just use the curtain, I guess." A part of her wanted to ask him to leave. She still didn't know him very well and she knew enough from her experiences with Jareth that appearances could be deceiving. At the same time, she felt the need to redeem herself from being subjugated by _that man_. She needed to be strong, confident, unintimidated by male presence. It was with this reasoning that she drew the curtain and changed without hesitation.

When she finished changing, she emerged from behind the curtain rather awkwardly, smoothing out the skirt as if it stuck to her in all the wrong places. It was thinner than the one she'd worn to meet The King, more comfortable even. It had a slight sheen and a low, square neckline. Simple embroidery decorated the waist and the hem of the skirt. It was long-sleeved, tightly fitted and, actually, very lovely.

Lochlan, having been sitting on the edge of the trunk, now stood to greet her.

"Looks like it's the right fit. Good," he said, approvingly. Sarah blushed a little, though she didn't know why. As far as compliments went, that was probably the least direct she'd ever heard. She looked down over herself and stepped towards him.

"Yeah...I kinda like it, actually," she said, slipping on a pair of black slippers she noticed he'd also lain out for her.

"I'm glad. It suits you." She brushed her hair behind her ear and, when she turned back to face him, saw he'd offered her an arm. "I know it's a bit rushed, but you'll have plenty of time to acclimate yourself later. For now, If I could be so bold, may I escort you to dinner, milady?"

The dining room was not far, Lochlan assured, and only two floors below them. Sarah observed all she could as they walked, wanting to learn her way about the castle as soon as possible. It was daunting to say the least -physically massive, like the halls had been made for the comfort of giants. And there were so many twists and turns, it was like a labyrinth in and of itself.

After a few minutes of nothing but echoing footsteps, Sarah gave in to break the disquiet.

"So...who's going to be at this dinner?" she asked. If Jareth, she, and Lochlan were the only one's there, that was sure to make things awkward…

"A few of the residents," Lochlan answered. Sarah peered up.

"I thought there were no residents?"

Lochlan caught her gaze and arched a brow.

"Ah. I suppose what I mean to say is a few of the staff -who happen to reside within the castle," he explained. Sarah pursed her lips.

"Oh? I would have thought that to be...inappropriate or something."

"Normally yes." They paused as Lochlan opened a door for her. "However, as Jareth has no court, the day-to-day can be a bit isolating The workers gather for dinner each evening as a means of maintaining some form of social interaction." And now Sarah was frowning. Geez. That sounded bleak. Imagining how often these people were left on their own in this enormous castle had her worrying for her own sanity in the coming days. It was all so...empty.

"Oh," she said, and nothing more. Not picking up on her introspection, Lochlan glanced down at her with a grin.

"Yes. We've become a rather odd little family in that regard. You'll find things are run much more casually here than...well...anywhere, really."

Sarah was about to probe him about his use of the term _family_ when they rounded a corner and caught sight of a troupe of women chatting outside a large set of double doors. Sarah paused for a split-second, though Lochlan failed to notice and continued to bring her towards them with ease and familiarity. Sensing their approach, a couple of the women glanced over and their brows raised. Such looks earned the curiosity of the remaining women, who cut their sentences short and turned to stare at them as well. Sarah saw Lochlan had a smile on his face. She fought the instinct to grip his arm.

"Lord Leche? Oh good, so you really are back-"

"What do you mean _really_? I told you he was onboard. Why must you always doubt me?"

"Because you are a terrible gossip."

The woman who'd spoken first -a lithe looking blonde- scowled at the second, looking down her nose and, very blatantly, restraining herself from nudging her with an elbow. The second woman -a compact redhead with heavy freckles- stifled a giggle as she glanced away mischievously. There were five of them, Sarah counted. All very, very different from one another, and yet all extremely attractive.

A third woman -of an olive complexion with dark eyes and hair- stood with her arms crossed, and arched one brow as she gestured at Sarah with her chin.

"Not terrible enough it seems. Look, he's brought a guest."

"A guest?"

"Good evening, ladies…" Lochlan said, his tone falling low as he interrupted their prattle, and brought himself and Sarah to a stop a few feet away from them. Sarah felt her jaw tensing as she tried to stand as tall as they did. She could not help comparing their appearances, and felt suddenly insecure. They wore gowns as simple and modest as her own, but they seemed to fill them out much more elegantly. Their hair was also done rather extravagantly and their make-up was immaculate. Sarah's eyes darted away from them. It'd been two days since she'd even showered…

"Good evening. Did you have a safe voyage?" a fourth one asked. This one was a bit mousy, with dull-blonde hair and pale eyes. Lochlan's grin faded and he nodded his head.

"Perfectly," he answered, then cocked his head as he regarded them curiously. "What are you all doing out here? Surely I hope you were not waiting on my account." Sarah noticed several sets of eyebrows rising in a look she recognized as bashfulness. These brows were accompanied by pursed or puckered lips, and Sarah's suspicion was confirmed. Oh my, were several someone's crushing on Lord Leche?

"Undoubtedly, yes," answered the first woman -the only one seemingly confident enough to stare him square in the eye. Sarah took particular notice of her posture, the way she angled herself in front of the other women, and she inferred from this that she must be their _leader_. "It wouldn't do to start our meal without you. And Greta was just so certain you were here...somewhere." And her eyes rolled slowly down to _Greta_ -the second woman, the shortest of the five and, apparently, a terrible gossip. Sarah wondered if that was her real name. Surely not?

"Although it seems her intel, however, was sorely lacking. Who is this on your arm? You did not mention we were getting a new maid."

Sarah's eyes turned to the third woman, the one who still held her arms crossed, and narrowed her eyes in confusion. Though it was not in reaction to what she'd said. The woman was already staring Sarah down, giving her a steeled, unimpressed look that featured a wry curl of the lips. What?

"Right, Avana's post has been open for quite some time, hasn't it? Oh, what a nice surprise. And just look how pretty she is!" Greta exclaimed, clasping her hands together and smiling with glee as she spoke. Sarah's brow continued to twist.

Lochlan's grin curled on one side and he shook his head.

"Heh, no. I doubt Avana's post shall be filled any time soon," he said and the gaggle collectively frowned. He turned to Sarah then and gave her a reassuring smile. "Though you do remind me of my poor manners. Forgive my lack of introduction. This is Lady Williams. Miss Williams, these are the castle's maids." Sarah's eyes, slightly strained with awkwardness, turned from Lochlan back to the gaggle, and she gave them a clipped nod.

"Ah. I see. Nice to meet you," she said, trying her damned-near-hardest not to rake her eyes from head to toe over every single one of them. The fifth woman had yet to speak. She had a long face and light brown hair. She stood in the back and, more or less, kept her eyes averted in a way that seemed timid.

"A pleasure indeed, My Lady," said the first woman, and then they all bowed their heads. She glanced at the other four and it seemed, to Sarah, some unspoken dialogue had just passed between them. "I hope you'll forgive our presumption. It simply isn't often we entertain guests."

"Oh, I don't mind. My arrival wasn't exactly announced," Sarah said, waving off the issue with false pleasantry.

"Yes, this is all rather last minute," Lochlan added, placing his hand over top Sarah's forearm where their arms were still locked in a friendly manner. Women two and three both locked eyes on the gesture, though Sarah failed to notice.

"Forgive me for being forward but-" woman number three interjected -the one whose stare was still so sharp. All attention was cast to her on reflex. "-I assume you will be joining us for dinner. May I ask the purpose of your visit?"

Sarah hesitated before responding, registering the collective expressions of the maids as one of intrigue and confusion. Did they not know about Jareth's marriage prospects? Sensing Sarah's moment of trepidation, Lochlan spoke up for her.

"Actually, Miss Williams is not visiting. She shall be staying here with us. She is to be our new Mistress."

Sarah's eyes widened at his phrasing, but it failed in comparison to the mirrored looks of gross surprise that such news earned from the women.

"What?"

"Really now, is that any expression for a Lady to make? Shut your open mouths, all of you." Like a snare, all five gapes clamped shut and the band of ladies stood rigidly as Sarah's attention veered to the left. There was a woman approaching them, an older, much more soured looking woman. She looked middle-aged, and wore a highly conservative black gown with her hair pulled tightly back. From her peripheral, Sarah caught the women bowing their heads in deference, and briefly wondered if she should do the same...

"Forgive us, Madam," the first woman said, clasping her hands and seeming to angle herself forward to represent the lot of them. Sarah looked up at Lochlan. His expression was unphased.

"That's better…" The elderly women joined them and glared at the girls with hands on hips, before smoothing away all traces of annoyance and peering over to her and Lochlan with a well-practiced smile. "Lord Leche, welcome back," she said, and dipped her head. Lochlan dipped his as well.

"Thank you. I trust all was well in my absence?"

"Quite." She turned her attention away from Lochlan and onto Sarah. "Please forgive my punctuality, My Lady. I was not aware you would be joining us," she said, and bowed her head once more.

"That's okay. I wasn't really expecting to stay…" she said, unsure of how to conduct herself. The woman flashed a smirk and cast her stare through her.

"Nevertheless, I fear our maids have done you a discourtesy. I could not help to overhear you are our new Mistress?"

"Oh. Um...yeah...I guess?" she half-answered, wincing as she glanced up to Lochlan for a cue. His smile stretched further.

"Absolutely."

"I see. That's wonderful," the _Madam_ said, though whether or not there was any sincerity to the phrase was totally indiscernible. She bowed her head again and carried on. "I am the castle's Matron. You may call me Madam Miri."

Sarah blinked. Was that...her real name?

"I'm sorry, I'm unfamiliar with the title. What is a Matron?"

Madam Miri lifted her head and blinked in kind, visibly caught off guard as she finally realized Sarah wasn't from around here.

"No apologies necessary," she said, unevenly. "A Matron is a head of household. That is, I manage the domestic staff here serving the castle," she explained, which now made the maid's visceral reactions to her scolding make sense.

"Oh, I see. It's a pleasure to meet you," Sarah said, bowing her head awkwardly and hoping she was supposed to do so. This felt different than her interactions at the garrison. It was hard to gauge the _proper_ level of formality at work here. Rather than respond verbally, Madam Miri dipped her head in acknowledgement. Sarah felt Lochlan's posture shift, and she glanced up at him in reaction to it.

"Madam, as you may have heard, Miss Williams will be staying with us permanently," he said, and glanced down at Sarah with a happy little smile. "I'd like for us all to welcome her warmly." Sarah's eyes, becoming increasingly flighty in response to Lochlan's misplaced sense of familiarity, darted away to the women, which allowed her to once again catch a glimpse of their wide and bemused expressions. But exactly _why_ they were so damn surprised was a question she felt was more suspicious than it should have been.

"Without a doubt," the Madam said, calling back Sarah's attention. "Please, Mistress, allow me to introduce our maids. This is Sirene, Greta, Talia, Arlyn, and June. Should you need anything at all, please feel free to ask it of any of us."

Sarah blinked. Okay. That was a lot of first names. Was it rude to ask if they were pseudonyms? Why was she getting so hung up on the name game? What's more, were they really limited to calling her Miss Williams or Mistress? She didn't quite like that.

"Thank you. I'm very new here, so It's much appreciated." Sarah smiled forcefully as she spoke. She could feel the ogling eyes of the maids staring at her and it was beyond awkward.

"So you are a human?"

Sarah, Madam Miri, and Lochlan all glanced over at a now very panicked-looking Greta, who quickly covered her mouth with her hands. The Madam frowned, but before she could berate the poor girl, Sarah spoke up with another false smile.

"Yes. Yes I am. I'm from the other world, actually."

If Sarah thought the lot of them looked surprised before, she could do little to describe the looks they were giving her now. Even Talia, the grumpy one who'd kept her arms crossed, straightened her posture and drew her brow tight.

"The other world? Really?" This time it was June who spoke, the shy brunette who'd just made her first utterance into the conversation. She took half a step forward from the back, her dull-grey eyes brightening with intrigue.

"Um...yep. I take it, that's surprising?"

The women exchanged glances and then looked back at her with some sort of shared understanding.

"Quite," said Arlyn. The _fourth_ woman. She had been rather quiet up until now as well, leaving Sarah to wonder why she was getting the feeling that the more dominant three were now biding their time. "We've never met a human from Above before."

"Though they do pass through, from time to time." Sarah looked over sharply at Talia. Her gaze had turned hard and scrutinizing once more, and Sarah hoped, she really fucking hoped, that this woman would not cause her any trouble later on. They were _maids_ , yes, but Lochlan had said things operated more casually here, and she had a pretty strong suspicion that their masterfully-crafted bone structure was by no means a coincidence, and that they _served_ much more than the castle.

Sarah's eyes narrowed in distaste and she pressed her tongue to the back of her teeth. She did not yet have any grounds to be angry about this. She'd literally just arrived and it was still unclear whether or not Jareth had actually accepted her proposal. He could fuck whomever he wanted...for the time being. Regardless, she was only human and could already feel her, quite frankly nasty, sense of possessiveness kicking in.

However, knowing this was not the time nor place, Sarah took quick note of each and every one of these quips and filed them away in the back of her mind. At present, Talia's words were more interesting than her tone, as Sarah realized she was making a reference to past labyrinth runners.

"So I've heard," Sarah replied, keeping her tone light but her words short. Before the air could permeate with tension, the group was distracted by the sound of male voices chatting from down the hall. Sarah looked over, around Lochlan, and spied on three figures -none of whom were Jareth.

The women took a step back to welcome them into the circle, and Madam Miri moved to join them as well.

"Ah! Leche! I thought I spied you at the docks! I didn't think you'd be back so soon!" They were still a few paces away, so the man who'd spoken had done so rather loudly. The amount of good cheer in his voice caught Sarah off guard, though she was thankful for it. She released Lochlan's arm and took a step away as they all turned to face one another.

"Yes...you know how I pride myself on efficiency," Lochlan said, with absolutely no _pride_ at all. Sarah grinned. Humility suited him well.

The three men now stood before them. The one who'd called out was in the center of them and the tallest. He was the most well-dressed as well. He sported what looked to be military gear, though distinctly different from the uniforms of the soldiers she'd seen at the garrison. It flaunted pretty detail and, in lieu of any actual armor, looked to be more tactical in function. The other two dressed casually, with dirt-stained pants and over-coats. Their faces were tanned and did not look nearly as refined as everyone else's.

"Haha indeed," the man said and glanced away. "I see dinner has not yet begun. I feared we would be running late with that shipment, and here you all are loitering in the hall. What a relief."

"Good evening Madam, ladies," a second man said, and all three bowed their heads as if the sentiment extended for them all. "Good evening," they all replied, with a sense of femininity that had been sorely lacking from their previous conversation. Hm. Maybe Lochlan wasn't so special after all.

"Ah, and who is this? A new maid I see?" It was the tallest gentleman who'd spoken, now turning his attention directly to Sarah who, once again, paled awkwardly on the spot.

"No, not a maid. She is to be the castle's Mistress," Madam Miri informed. Surprise reflected on the men the same way it had the women, and it was a look Sarah was already bored with. Somehow sensing Sarah's impending irritation, Lochlan took a step back and lightly pressed a hand against the small of her back.

"Allow me to introduce Miss Williams. Yes, she is a human. Yes, she is from the Aboveground. And yes, she will be our new Mistress." Sarah bit her cheek in the effort to suppress a spiteful grin. Lochlan was trying to handle her again. At least, in this instance, she appreciated it.

The trio of men bowed before her, the tallest one placing a gallant hand over his heart as he did so.

"I see. What a lovely surprise. Welcome, My Lady," he said, and the three of them straightened. Lochlan glanced down to Sarah.

"This is Captain Merek. He operates all military activity on the isle," Lochlan said. Sarah nodded.

"Yes. I take a great deal of pride in the capability of my men. Even if you cannot see them, there are guards everywhere. If you are ever in need of assistance, please, never hesitate," Merek said, which, from the strength of his eye-contact alone, registered as a deeply moving statement to her. He really meant it. More than that, it was like he implored it. She'd have to ponder that later...Lochlan wasn't finished introducing her yet.

"Of course. Thank you…"

"And this filthy gent is Bastian. He is Faengsal's game warden."

The man on the right, presumably Bastian, bowed his head with a smile. Sarah narrowed her eyes. What the hell kind of job was that?

"And lastly, we have Dermot. He is the castle's Patron. Meaning, in contrast to Madam Miri here, he oversees the obligations of the castle's _male_ staff. I doubt you noticed, but you crossed paths when we first docked. He was helping load cargo." Sarah nodded like she understood and gave them all a polite smile.

"Yes. I, however, remember seeing you, undoubtedly. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance -as _surprising_ as it is." Dermot smiled awkwardly and averted his eyes, which meant, to her, that he _was_ entirely aware of her marital circumstances.

"I think we can all agree that surprising is a massive understatement," Sarah said, laughing exasperatedly as she rolled her eyes away. This seemed to lighten the mood for all of them and so, as if on cue, Lochlan turned and gestured towards the doors.

"Surprising, refreshing, exciting. It's all the same really. But, now that introductions are out of the way, shall we finally take our seats? You've got to be starving by now."

"Yeah...about that…"

"I know I am!"

Sarah's nervous mumble went unheard as a very excited Captain Merek stepped through the circle and pushed open the dining hall doors. This was permission enough for the rest of them to follow, leaving Sarah jittery and at the back of the bunch as they all walked away from her. Lochlan, still standing at her side, glanced down curiously.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Sarah, finally allowing the disconcertion to show through her wringing brow, found it hard to tear her eyes away from the backs of the _odd little family_ she'd just met.

"Yeah, just...a little overwhelmed, I think."

Lochlan frowned. Perhaps he should have been more observant. Of course this would be too much for her. He was just so happy to have her there.

"Understandably so," he said, with sympathy. Sarah peered up worriedly. "You're doing very well. Surely, this place is not as bad as you'd expected?" He watched her brow draw tight before glancing into the dining hall once more. She saw the group of fae all conversing with one another, with smiles, with ease, as they took their seats at one end of a very large dining table. It seemed so normal. And yet so intimidating. And what of Jareth? Where the hell was he? She still had a bone to pick with him…

"No...definitely not what I expected."

* * *

By the time Sarah and Lochlan joined the rest at the dining table, almost everyone was seated. She observed the ladies, in some descending order no doubt, seated themselves on the right and the men on the left. Captain Merek and Dermot were still standing, chatting distractedly about something that had to do with the latest shipment of goods, and the maids were all giggling among themselves in hushed tones. Sarah noticed a large, throne-like chair at the head of the table, left vacant, along with the two seats immediately to it's left and right. Lochlan led her to one such chair, placed next to Madam Miri.

Sarah stood, tentatively, watching Lochlan as he rounded the table to sit directly across from her. He gave her a look of encouragement and took his seat. Begrudgingly, Sarah did as well.

The atmosphere was far too casual for her liking. None of them paid her any mind, and the chair at the head of the table remained empty.

Without breaking from their conversation, Merek and Dermot took their seats, and only a moment or so later were a number of goblins scurrying in from a door across the room, carrying covered trays of food.

Their meal was laid out for them wordlessly, and Sarah was the only one to regard their servers as they moved about. Sarah wondered what manner of dining etiquette would be expected of her, and was thus confused and wary when she observed none as everyone removed the lids from their trays and began to eat without the slightest preamble.

Sarah's eyes, wandering down the line of hungry fae and then back up again, eventually landed on Lochlan, and she blanched to find he was already looking at her.

"Are um...are we not going to wait for J-His Highness?"

There was a pause at the table, noticeable, and no one said anything right away. Lochlan gave her a sympathetic look and folded his napkin in his lap.

"No. His Highness does not usually dine with us."

Sarah frowned, unable to discern the strange tension about the table.

"Why?" she asked. She glanced to the side, down the line of maids who now kept their eyes averted or on their plates. That was...interesting.

"His Highness is very busy. He does not often have the time to dally with the likes of us," Madam Miri answered. Sarah looked over at her, eyeing her intently, but only received a perfectly steeled expression in response.

"Oh," Sarah said. Well fuck. She couldn't decide if this was more or less awkward. What the hell was she supposed to do now? The waft of the food in front of her begged her attention, which had her stomach growling angrily. She clasped a hand over it and scowled. No. She would not dare eat a single thing until she heard, with her own ears, the explicit words "yes, I will marry you" from Jareth's mouth. But, even as she thought this, even as the conviction firmly rooted itself in her mind, her mouth watered at the sight of well-brined chicken and roasted vegetables. Goddamn. It was like she'd never seen something so appetizing. "So...is this the dinner crowd? Where is everyone else? I thought I saw more people working outside…" she said, in the weak effort to distract herself.

"My men are still unloading this month's cargo into storage. Otherwise, they would be here as well," Dermot said. Sarah looked down the table at him. He sat beside Merek, who sat beside Lochlan. Furthest down was Bastian, who looked to be content with the quiet consumption of his meal.

"Oh. I see."

"There are also the kitchen staff," Lochlan added. "Although, they, for obvious reasons, are unable to dine with us here. They take their meals downstairs. I imagine, unless you venture down there yourself, you shall never see any of them."

"And the soldiers?" Sarah asked, turning to look at Merek.

"They operate in shifts and have their own private barracks beneath the castle. Honestly...I should probably be out on patrol during such a time. Though that is the benefit of being the Captain, isn't it? My being here is sheer privilege!" And he did not sound the least bit guilty for it. He was smiling, savouring his meal with hearty appreciation, and Sarah couldn't help but chuckle.

"And you Bastian? What does a game warden do, exactly?" she asked, leaning a little further over the table to look at him. Bastian paused with his fork raised to his mouth, then lowered it in preparation to speak.

"I control the local wildlife from wreaking too much havoc. I'm also the stable master, and care for the horses and other such beasts of burden."

"Hm...local wildlife...do you mean the goblins?"

"And others."

Sarah was about to inquire further when Dermot spoke next. "There are many, many, wicked beasts that plague this island, Mistress. I urge you take caution should you ever venture outside-"

"Outside? Why ever would she do that?"

Collective stares peered over at Talia, who was grimacing and waving a hand in disgust.

"Excuse me?" Sarah asked.

"Take it from me, the land outside these walls is a dreadful place. After the last season, I can't fathom why any sensible person would want to subject themselves to it. The heat, the dust, and the-those goblins. _Bleh_."

"Spoken like a proper Lady," Merek mumbled, with amusement, into his cup. Apparently such a comment was an insult, as Talia huffed and rolled her eyes away in response. Sarah's brow drew a little.

"The goblins never bothered me. Nor the desert for that matter." She spoke plainly, her expression stern as she gradually looked away. Greta leaned forward with intrigue.

"The desert? You were here for the previous season?" she asked. Sarah, having given in to take a sip of her water, paused just as the rim of the glass touched her lips.

"Um...I think?" Seasons. What the hell was up with these _seasons_ they kept mentioning? Greta, with both hands grasping the edge of the table as she stared over at Sarah, _almost_ relaxed. Until some sort of lightbulb went off, that is.

"Wait...you're not...you're not a _runner,_ are you?"

There was something about the way she'd asked that question that made Sarah a bit nervous. She was staring at her very intently and now, when she had not immediately responded, so was everyone else. Sarah lowered the cup back to the table and licked her lips. Why the hell...was this such a big deal?

"...yes?" she said, and the table gasped. Sharp inhales were taken and worried glances exchanged. Sarah drew back in her seat. "Why do I get the feeling you're all deeply shocked?"

There was a bit of a pause before anyone responded. They were all still looking around at one another. And then, finally, it was Sirene who spoke up.

"Forgive us," she said, shaking her head subtly with disbelief. "It's just...well...we did not think there were any left alive."

"What the hell does that mean?"

Sensing an air of alarm rising in Sarah's voice, Lochlan shifted in his seat and called over her attention. She glared at him, though he forced himself to smile.

"She means that very few runners survive to the end," he said, as if that would be enough to assuage her. The look in Sarah's eye was now twinged with abhorrence.

"And the ones that do…."

" _The ones that do_ , what?" Sarah asked, looking sharply down the line back at Talia, who was, ever-so-surreptitiously, speaking and looking down into her cup.

"Well...it seems our intel was misinformed on that subject as well…" she said. Sarah glared. Alarm now morphing into suspicion.

"His Highness plays a very dangerous game," Lochlan said, urging her attention back to him. "You undoubtedly know that. It is not often that competitors make it out unscathed, if they make it out at all. You should take pride that you won."

"Oh, believe me, I do," she assured, feeling very much put-off from this dinner and the myriad micro-aggressions she'd already waded through. Honestly, she wasn't even entirely sure what she was so mad about. Maybe it was just the look on Talia's face. Maybe she was just hangry. Regardless, these strangers were not the ones whom she needed to be discussing these things with. She glanced down and shoved way from table

"Something the matter?" Lochlan asked. Sarah paused and met him in the eye. "I notice you haven't touched your plate yet. Is it not to your tastes?"

"No. No, it looks delicious," she said, and took a deep breath. "But...if I eat it then I'll be trapped here. I think I'm just still...reluctant to believe he actually wants to marry me," she explained. She was glancing down at her meal, and was thus startled by the sounds of more than one fork clattering onto a plate.

"What?!" Greta exclaimed, lunging herself over the table as she stared over at Sarah with a huge, beaming expression. "You're _marrying_ His Highness?" There was shock in her voice. Blatant shock. Something which was mirrored to perfection in the silent expressions of almost every other person sitting at the table. Sarah's eyes darted. Madam Miri, who was sitting directly beside her, was the only one (aside from Lochlan of course) who did not look quite so amazed. Instead she stared down at nothing with a tightly twisted brow.

"Greta, have you no class at all? Sit down immediately," she lectured, through a locked jaw. Greta obeyed, her impulsive fervor lulling as she lowered back into her chair. Sarah tried not to acknowledge how awkward it had just become. Miri glanced up and gave Sarah a polite smile. "Forgive her, Mistress. It is easy to forget one's manners in a place like this."

Sarah pursed her lips. Everyone was watching her. She didn't really know...how to react.

"It's alright. No reason to apologize…" and she leaned forward to direct her next comment at Greta specifically. "And um...it looks that way, yeah." Her words were awkward and so was the tension brimming about everyone else. Sarah sat back in her seat, feeling a little confused. "Is the title of _Mistress_ supposed to mean something else?"

She looked up at Lochlan for an answer. His face twitched with an embarrassed, apologetic smile. He shrugged and trailed his eyes down the length of the table.

"Forgive me…" he said, nervously. "I suppose I should have been more explicit in my introduction. Miss Williams will in fact be the castle's Mistress, by way of her marriage to His Highness, that is."

Sarah's eyes followed Lochlan's and locked on those of Sirene. She looked surprised, but not with the same sense of passion as Greta or Talia. In fact, she looked a little...sad. Arlyn and June kept their gazes strictly averted.

"I see. Please, do forgive us Miss Williams. When Lord Leche said Mistress, we assumed you were merely sent to manage the castle. Perhaps as an understudy to Madam Miri. We never-"

"Wait, are you saying he actually _agreed_ to the union?" Talia interrupted, and sounded damn-right offended at that. Sarah peered around Sirene and scowled.

"Pretty sure it wouldn't be happening otherwise."

"Well I think that is splendid news," Merek interjected. Sarah peered over, though her expression was still well-guarded. She could sense many a nasty thing now emanating from Talia, and wondered whether or not to bother engaging in the pissing match she so obviously wanted to start. "It's about time he settled down."

"But you're a human-"

"And?" Sarah snapped.

If there had been a timer on the table it would have chosen that very second to start counting down. Sarah's eyes had veered back to Talia, daring her to make a scene. However, the impudent fae, as grumpy as she was, was wise to show a moment of restraint. Sirene, sitting in equal distance between the two, turned from one to the other, and then cocked a very shrewd brow at her fellow maid.

"And that obviously means absolutely nothing in the eyes of His Majesty, so why ever would it mean anything to you, Talia?" she asked, her voice light in the effort to diffuse the brewing tension. As Sarah observed, she noted that Talia was the only one who was displaying any type of aggression towards this news. Honestly, she found that surprising. The other women looked, if anything, overtly _cautious_.

"I…" Talia started, and, as Sirene's stern gaze, now accompanied by that of Madam Miri, pierced through hers, she decided to change directions. "-forgive me, My lady. That was wrong of me to say. I'm just...very surprised." The words sounded forced but not quite as painful as Sarah had expected. With a dismissive huff, Sarah rolled her eyes and sat back in her seat.

"You're not alone there," she grumbled, and glowered at the table's surface pensively. It was quiet for a moment, and then she heard Lochlan speak.

"Miss Williams?"

"Sorry-" she interjected, too sharply for her own liking. She shook her head and took a breath. Surely the lot of them were still just staring at her all wide-eyed and befuddled. She couldn't bring herself to look up and find out. "-I think all the nostalgia is putting me off my appetite," she continued, in a much calmer tone. "I...I just need some air. If that's alright."

"...Of course. You do not need anyone's permission here."

"Please excuse me, then."

She stood and left the table. Her gaze was absent as she forced herself to ignore the _immediate_ nervous mumblings of the fae ladies no doubt brimming and absolutely mad with gossip. She was irritated. So thoroughly irritated that she wondered where exactly it all stemmed from. She'd expected them to be surprised. She'd expected them to judge her. And yet...and yet still she let them get to her. She was being stupid. Their opinion of her did not matter and she knew, behind all the annoyance, she knew that Talia's condescension probably had less to do with the fact that she was a human and more to do with the fact that she was a _female_ who was not one of _them_.

She tried to use this bit of self-awareness to calm herself, giving in to fist her hands only after she'd exited the dining hall. She had no idea where she was going. She would probably find herself hopelessly lost. But that didn't particularly matter to her. She was hungry, angry, unsatisfied, and deeply suspicious. She wondered where Jareth was and why the hell he thought himself too good to join them for dinner.

She walked briskly at first, keeping her head low as she paced without objective. After a while though, calmer heads prevailed and she eased up. She'd known enough not to take any corners, so she wasn't concerned about finding her way back. With that said, she was now quite a ways away from the dining hall. The air felt cooler here. A slight breeze kissed her cheeks.

Curious of it, she walked further down. As the hall curved around the castle, a new light shone from up ahead. It was a deep, rich, orange hue that could only have come from the setting sun. As the bend let out, Sarah caught sight of a series of paneless windows that opened the entire side of the castle to the world beyond. She hadn't realized how late it'd gotten. The sun, distant and smothered behind a veil of cloud, just barely peaked from behind a rolling range of hills. Sarah's pace slowed as she gazed at it, at the way the sky melted in hues of orange and red and purple, and soft beams of light broke between the highlands to leave pools of shadow that stretched for miles across the land. It was all so dark and saturated. She'd never seen the labyrinth look so beautiful. She'd never seen anything like this at all.

The columns that separated the arched windows cast a series of stripes across the hall. She passed through them, waywardly wondering how far she could walk before such a glorious view would reach its end.

The idea made her a little sad and she stopped walking altogether. The breeze came again, stronger this time, and it was crisp and fresh and lovely. She inhaled deeply and her remaining frustration faded. There was a sparkle in the air. She knew it was just dust, but even still. It was beautiful.

She turned her attention away from the land, and froze. It was so quiet, so still, she'd never even noticed he was there. And, as she continued to stare at him longer and longer, she realized he had not yet noticed her either.

Sarah's jaw tensed and she gulped, feeling a sudden return of nerves as she debated whether or not this was a place she really wanted to be. She was alone. Unguarded. And caught unaware in the presence of a very dangerous-looking Goblin King.

He was sitting on the frame of a window, reposed and contemplative, as he stared out at the very thing Sarah had just been so enamoured by. One of his knees was drawn up, and his arms were crossed, while the other leg hung lazily over the window's edge unseen. She noticed he'd removed his coat, and instead now wore a dark blue shirt and a black cape that draped heavily over his shoulders. It glittered brighter than the dust in the air, reflecting colors of amber and gold as the sun cast its light upon him.

Realizing her mouth had gone dry, Sarah licked her lips before biting down on them. He looked like a painting. Something far too composed and rendered far too elegantly to be real. The same breeze that graced her cheek caught up the ends of his hair, and her eyes followed the movement around the contour of his face. His expression was somber. Vacant. Not at all the creature she'd seen only an hour earlier.

Knowing this was exactly the moment she'd been heading towards, Sarah swallowed her trepidation and approached him.

He was still a healthy distance away when she'd noticed him, which made the trek a rather awkward one. She kept her eyes trained solely on him, aware of her own anxiety and yet unable to keep herself guarded from it. Seeing him again had brought his taste to her tongue and it...was far from welcomed.

He did not acknowledge her as she approached. Even as she came to stand within a few feet of his side. She wondered what in the world he could be thinking about so intently. Or maybe she'd just kept her footsteps too hushed.

Finally, after a long moment, his head slowly turned. Sarah stood dumbly as the movement stopped halfway, although his eyes continued on to spy on her from his peripheral.

"Um...Hi," she said.

She felt like an idiot but it was too late. Rather than dart her eyes away awkwardly, she held his gaze, refusing to blink until he fully acknowledged her. This, however, did not happen. She only watched as he slowly blinked and turned his head back towards the horizon.

"You've wandered awfully far from the dining hall," he said, with a dead tone that fell slack in the air. Sarah felt the tug of a frown on her brow, like she was disappointed by such an impassive response, along with the stone wall his posture alone had erected between them. She continued to scrutinize him with her gaze, searching for any trace of the overbearing fiend who'd assaulted her so enthusiastically, and yet found nothing. She watched the profile of his face as he blinked slowly one more time, and she realized it was a deliberate mannerism. The markings around his eyes had faded too. Now they were almost completely transparent.

"It got a bit stifling," she said, trying her best to feel the waters before coming any closer to him. She regarded him like a wild animal, something mighty and majestic, and dangerous because of its beauty. Let sleeping dogs lie, she warned herself, feeling a near-instinctive urge to take a step back. She did, however, suppress this desire the moment it roused itself. That was sheer nerves talking. That was Lochlan's stupid _warning_ from the previous night. Living up to Lochlan's expectations, she refused to be jaded by such opinions. But even with this firm bravado, she could not stop herself from flinching when he suddenly shifted on the window's ledge. She was just too damn nervous.

As the seconds passed, Sarah pushed through her quandary to realize he had no intention of responding to her. The tug on her brow now pulled at her lips, and she gave in to cross her arms defensively.

"...What are you doing?" she asked. She turned her sights on the setting sun, hoping to see whatever it was, if there was anything at all, that he found so captivating. Jareth's eyes closed and he let out a shallow breath.

"Absolutely...nothing."

His tone was deadpan but Sarah could not help but regard a sense of bitterness lurking underneath. She found that interesting, and gave in to take a step closer. She'd watched as his grip on his arms adjusted while he'd spoken. They did not tense per-say, but they did not relax either. He looked bothered. Maybe she was interrupting something…

"I'm sorry if I'm intruding. ...I'll leave if that's what you want." Her offer was baited but not entirely insincere. She angled her feet away from him and went to take a step back. Jareth's eyes darted over just as her face turned away-

"Stay."

Sarah paused. There was a command in his tone -repressed as it was. But more than that, there was impulse. She turned back and stared at him. Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments, before he tore his sharply away to look back out the window.

"You may stay. ...If you'd like," he corrected. The latter half of his sentence was softer, not quite as detached as it seemed. Sarah pursed her lips and stared at him intently. Maybe she was projecting, but it seemed like he'd reigned himself just then. Like he was holding something back, and very consciously at that. Why she was so interested in his mannerisms, she wasn't entirely sure. Maybe it was because this man, who was once her childhood villain, was now her fiance. Maybe it was because he was to be the father of her children. Maybe it was because, even now, she could still feel the force of his tongue pushing against hers. She caught the movement of his head turning and he nodded towards the wall beside her. She glanced over and saw a table and chair she didn't think had been there before. She looked back to Jareth and when their gazes crossed, she swore his glimmered. "Sit."

She hesitated, for no other reason than to watch as he looked away from her once more. He exhaled, his posture otherwise immobile as he fell back into his original lax. Sarah, keeping her eyes on him, took a step back, pulled over the chair, and sat down.

"Why didn't you come to dinner?" she asked, after a moment of silence.

"It's easier that way."

Sarah scowled and tilted her head.

"Why?"

"I...unnerve them."

His tone was clipped, doing little for her satisfaction. She didn't understand what that was supposed to mean, but gathered enough from his carefully chosen words that he was not in the sharing kind of mood. She glanced away in thought.

"But...this is your castle. You're the Prince. _You_ shouldn't be the one avoiding anything," she mumbled, voicing her thoughts. She was staring intently at the floor, thus leaving herself unaware of Jareth's gaze as it flickered back to her. He stared at her for a moment from the corner of his eye, at her curious words, and the supple pout of her lower lip as she pondered.

"It's a non-issue. I'm not one for the company anyway," he explained and, if he didn't know any better, might have said it was due to the queer want to relieve the faint look of displeasure he saw on her face.

Against whatever vague intention he may have had, Sarah's frown only worsened. Now it showed fully and she furrowed her brow. She turned towards the table and leaned back in the chair. Her arms crossed and her fingers tightened on her biceps. She lifted her eyes and gazed out over the labyrinth from a window a little further down the hall. The muted sun was now no more than a speck, but it's remaining light was still enough to illuminate everything about them. She spied on the abstracted shapes of the outermost parts of the maze. It all looked so peaceful from up here. She had yet to realize he was still staring at her.

"Oh. I wouldn't have guessed."

She kept her tone aloof, still in internal debate over how to best dissect this strange mood of his. Lochlan had warned her he was fickle. Was this what he meant? It was hard to compare his current temperament to her more lively experience from earlier. Another silence stretched but this time she did not care for it. Her spirit was draining and her gaze turned sullen as it fell over the hills.

She had no idea how many minutes passed as she lost herself to thought. And then, subconsciously, she raised a hand to her stomach. Beneath it all, she was still fucking starving.

"Are you hungry?"

Sarah peered over at Jareth with what appeared to be surprise, her eyes widened and audacious as they locked onto his. He wasn't expecting such a sharp reaction from her and his look only hardened. Both ignored the fact that, at some point, he'd turned his head to regard her fully. He saw the subtle twitch of her lip as she nibbled the inside of it. Her hand curled on her stomach, and then she frowned. Again.

"Uh...yes. A bit."

"Have you not eaten?"

"No...not yet." She felt nervous now, though not for the reason he might have guessed. She'd been feeling her stomach gurgling for a while now and wondered, with embarrassment, if his hearing was keen enough to pick up on it. His look gave her no tell however, and so she could only stew in her own subtle mortification.

Jareth watched her gaze fall low once more and his own narrowed on it in response.

"How long was your journey?" he asked.

"A few days. Why?"

Her posture stiffened a little when he suddenly shifted in his spot, drawing up his leg from the castle's exterior and in turn lowering the other to the floor in the hall. For a moment, she thought he might join her at the table, but he didn't.

"Your face is pallid," he said, turning his profile strictly away from her. "I assume that means you haven't eaten since coming here." He recrossed his arms and slouched against the window frame. Sarah eyed him curiously. He seemed a little grumpy all of the sudden. Then, unexpectedly, he shot her a sharp glare from his peripheral. "Eat."

With a confused frown, Sarah withdrew her gaze from him. She sat back in her seat, and then immediately realized there was now a covered tray waiting atop the table. She blinked at it in surprise and reached out for it, but caught herself, and he observed her carefully as she did so.

"Something wrong?" he asked. Sarah pursed her lips. The dang thing was still covered and already she could smell its delicious fumes. Her mouth was watering again. She only prayed her stomach stayed silent.

She lowered her hand back to her lap and turned to look him square in the eye.

"Yes, actually," she said, then turned her body to face him a little more. "Lochlan said if I eat anything from here I can never leave. He also said he's _fairly certain_ about this whole proposal business. Sorry, but that's not good enough for me." She kept her eyes trained sternly on him but if her intention was to intimidate him with it, she failed. He arched a brow at her instead.

"No?" he asked, with a slightly amused inflection. Sarah narrowed her eyes.

"No. So, before I condemn myself to this dimension, I'd like to hear you say it properly."

And then he cracked a grin. Now that was an expression more familiar to her. He bore teeth as the expression stretched, and he unfolded his arms as he turned to face her. He angled his body at her with one shoulder pressed against the window frame. His left knee was still bent on the sil, and he draped his left forearm over it as he stared at her, his right foot now planted firmly on the floor. It was quite a pose, if she was being honest, though lost some of its effect by the heavy shadows cast over him by the falling sun in the background.

"Say it properly? My, whatever do you mean?"

He was teasing her. Although, unlike before, it was without malevolence. Sarah inhaled, reminding herself about that whole "poking lions" bit.

"You know exactly what I mean. I want your word, Jareth. I want to hear you say that you'll marry me."

The way she glared at him was so gosh-darn stern, he almost took it seriously. Jareth's smile stretched, and he found himself restraining a chuckle. He raised a challenging brow in her direction and tilted his head a little.

"And if I don't? Will you starve?"

He admired the way her brows drew together in disconcertion, and his grin curled on one side.

"Is this a joke to you?"

There was a snap to her voice now, whatever bits of nervousness she'd arrived with flying clear out the window. She really did look angry with him. And so quickly. It brightened her eyes in the fading light. He'd nearly forgotten how lovely he found them.

"Entirely."

Whatever reaction he was expecting to get, she surprised him by quietly testing his gaze. Then, after a determination was made, she huffed and looked away as she stood to her feet.

"Well then. Guess I'll be on my way."

The chair scraped against the floor roughly as she pushed it out of her way and took a step to leave. Jareth, surprised to be feeling surprised, stared after her as she paced away from him.

"Stop," he told her, and she listened. She planted her feet and turned back to glare at him. Her arms crossed and a sharp, yellow highlight caught on her pouting lower lip. "No need to be getting flustered," he said, and casually gestured back towards the table. "Eat."

"Not without an answer," she said. She'd turned around to face him but her feet remained in place. Jareth's eyes narrowed and he took in a shallow breath. He'd nearly forgotten her penchant for defiance too...

"I've given you my answer. Now, _eat._ "

There was an edge to his voice that, contrarily, gave Sarah confidence. She raised her chin and stood a little taller.

"No. You haven't. I've learned a bit about your kind over these last few days, you know. Like the fact that you cannot lie when staking a contract," she said. Jareth cocked his head to one side.

"And?"

"And I think that's what you should do," she continued, releasing the frustrated grip she had on her arms and stalking her way back to her chair. She sat down in it ungracefully. "Swear to me that you will see this wedding through. If you refuse to even say something so simple then I really have no reason at all to trust you."

There was trace aggravation lining her voice, aptly reflected in her glare on him. Jareth's demeanor too had darkened, and it seemed her final comment had stricken away whatever sense of amusement he found in all this. He stood from the windowsill and walked towards her.

Sarah stiffened but was otherwise motionless as she watched his approach. The cut of his shirt hung loose and fell low down his chest, revealing a hint of pectoral muscle as his movements caused the tattered folds to span wider. She tore her eyes away from it, away from the familiar gold pendant that glinted at her over his sternum.

He kneeled before her on the floor, but still came to near eye-level. She drew back from him, from the sudden change in tone and proximity, emulating a sense of resolve when she really had none. God. Was she really so attracted to him? When the hell did that happen?

Oh. Right. The first moment they'd met.

Her breath hitched when he suddenly leaned forward, coming in close to her face, and she braced for a potential kiss. She was surprised when what happened was nothing of the sort, when she only blinked at him in confusion as he stared deeply into her eyes.

The markings were back. No longer faded. But were now a rich blue that complimented the cold intensity of his irises -just as crisp and beautiful as she remembered them.

He reached up to the table without looking, without breaking eye-contact, which left her wholly unprepared when he suddenly grabbed her chin with the other hand and jerked her mouth open. She gasped, recoiled, but did so in vain, as a sliced piece of fruit was shoved roughly into her mouth.

" _Eat_ ," he hissed, his tone bitter and brusque. Sarah's eyes went wide as she tasted the tang of a tangerine and she immediately tried to spit it out. Jareth, growling with impatience, pressed a gloved thumb over her lips and held her jaw clamped tightly shut while the other hand braced the back of her head.

He held her like that for several seconds, and she whimpered in confused distress. But, as their eyes remained locked, as she felt her mouth flooding with saliva and the pull of her taste buds betray her, she realized he would not let her go until she complied. And so, finally, belligerently, she chewed and swallowed. Jareth watched the bob of her throat and, only after he was fully convinced she hadn't faked it, he released her. The corners of her mouth were wet and, in a moment of distraction, she felt his thumb move, firmly, to spread it across her lips.

"There. Was that so hard?"

His voice was both hard and soft, and the distant look in his eye made no sense at all. Sarah, shocked and now terrified, continued to recoil -in expression if nothing else.

"What- how could you- how dare you-"

"I will marry you," he interrupted, which successfully killed her stammering. His eyes, which had since fallen to her mouth, now lifted to hers once more. He was so close to her. So calculated. Sarah felt her face enflame, and could only hope a blush would not follow. She wanted to lick her lips, to clean them of fruit juice and the saliva he'd smeared. However, with him so close she did not dare it. She only stared at him wide-eyed. "I give you my word," he continued, then slowly pulled away. He stood to his feet and turned his back on her. "Is that reliable enough?" She watched his cape slink behind him as he moved away, and suddenly she was compelled into action.

"Why?"

Jareth paused. Like he was caught off guard. Like he'd assumed his proximity and manhandling alone would be enough to subjugate her. He turned back and gave her a raised brow.

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to marry me?" she clarified. She looked abashed. Horrified even. And in truth, she kind of was. She could not think of a single reason why Jareth would be agreeing to this. And now- and now she was stuck here. He'd _forced_ this on her. Just like that. Forever.

Jareth turned around, faced her fully, though leaned back against the column he stood closest to. His gaze averted from her, cast itself to the side and into the shadows, and he shrugged.

"Why not?"

"Are you serious?"

Sarah, confused and now angered, was about to stand to her feet, but the way he tilted his head as he shrugged a second time, for some reason, kept her seated.

"You asked if this was a joke. I concede you, it is not. Though, even you must admit, it is amusing."

"Amusing?"

She watched him with an aghast kind of glare. Watched him as he smiled and looked away. As his brow lifted and a memory played vividly behind his eyes.

"I still can't believe you're really here," he said, which struck her for all of two seconds. It was what came next that exposed his mischief clear as day. "When I think of what the look on my father's face must have been when he agreed to this...of what it will be when he learns I've _finally_ said yes -to a human- ...Now that will truly be worth just about anything."

Sarah's expression fell deadpan. She really did just stare. This man. This asshole. Did he really just say that?

"You're kidding me. You're fucking kidding me," she said, dismay fleeting as a renewed sense of anger twisted her expression. He however, was totally unphased.

"No. Not you, at least."

"You expect me to believe you agreed to this purely out of spite? To fuck with your father? Are you fucking serious right now?!" She was so angry. So righteously angry. She wanted to jump to her feet but knew that if she did she would end up physically attacking him. Instead she gripped the edge of her seat. She gripped it with all of her might. Self-control was a virtue she was still working on.

"Does that bother you?"

The casual bounce in his voice was damn incessant and it sent her reeling. She needed to take a breath. To calm down. Why -why did she find that grin of his so infuriating?

"Why wouldn't it! You have no idea what I gave up to be here- No idea-"

"No, and I don't think it particularly matters." His dismissal of her outrage cut through what remained of her rant, and she found her mouth gaping open in disbelief. He was so nonchalant. So goddamn apathetic. The way he shrugged at her with a roll of the eyes was the most condescending thing she'd ever seen. "The fact is, you _are_ here. You sought _me_. Willingly. You said it yourself, my _magnanimous father_ came to you. You're here as a goddamn _privilege_. How can I not take advantage of such an unexpected treat?"

"But...but this is _marriage_ we're talking about."

"And?"

"And does that mean nothing to you?" Her hand thrashed across the table and this time she nearly did stand. She couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe how trivial he was making it all seem. She'd just given up her entire life for this and he- he- he was making a mockery of it! "Lochlan told me you've been refusing suitors for _years_. And now all of the sudden you're jumping on board without a care in the world? It's just -just-"

"And during all of this informing, did my chipper little keeper happen to mention exactly why I've been refusing suitors?"

Sarah paused. She blinked. He was staring at her expectantly, like he damn well knew the answer already.

"What? ...No," she replied, skeptically. She felt the sudden veer in conversation take away some of her ire, and she used that moment to compose herself. Her eyes darted away. His narrowed.

"No. I thought not."

"So...there's a reason? I just assumed you didn't want to get married," she said, shaking her head a little as she looked back up at him. She looked a little thrown. His grin curled with distaste.

" _Hmph._ How trite." There was pretension in his tone, reflected by the sharp sliver that was his stare. He was glancing down his nose at her, crossing his arms, and then sighed as he rolled the look away. "In case you haven't yet picked up on it, my father is not exactly pleased with me at the moment. This whole marriage business is just another attempt to curb what he considers to be my more _unsavoury_ nature. The desperation displayed by the presence of _you_ -of all people- is, quite thoroughly, laughable."

"Well I'm _so_ glad I get to be the butt of what is, undoubtedly, a _very bad_ joke," Sarah snapped, feeling rather _unamused_ with his priggish display. Jareth stifled a huff and his grin curled. That wasn't helping her temper any. "But aren't you thinking a little too highly of yourself Goblin King? From what I hear, it has nothing to do with you. He wants a second heir for political leverage."

One of Jareth's brows arched sharply and, for just one moment, he looked a little taken aback. His arms resituated and he crossed one ankle over the other.

"Oh, now there's a surprising bit of mis-information," he said, which had her brow drawing tighter. "Yes. I suppose he does want an heir for _political leverage_. In the way that he may then use it to write me out of the line of succession."

"What?"

Sarah gaped. Jareth smiled.

"Oh. Did they forget to mention that as well?" He spoke in a cheerful sing-song and his head tilted to the side. Sarah's scowl was falling to a frown. That was some heavy information he'd just laid on her, and with an entirely pleasant smile at that. "Beware, my dear-" he continued, and tisked a scolding finger at her "- _Half-truths_ are my species' specialty."

Sarah's addled gaze fell to the floor, and she shook her head.

"They...they told me that my purpose was to be a _wife_. To bear children. To increase the strength of your family's claim to the throne-"

"And you agreed?" Jareth asked. Sarah looked up again. His expression was deriding. And then he huffed. "Still naive as ever, I see."

"Wh...why would he want to disinherit you?" she asked. And why the hell was Jareth playing it off so casually? It wasn't mere surprise she was feeling, but worry. She was worried. What the hell kind of situation did she get herself wrapped up in?

"I told you...he is not pleased with me at the moment."

"That seems a bit extreme don't you think?" she countered, turning flabbergasted, and wove an aimless hand through the air. "What the hell did you do that made him so _displeased_?"

She didn't realize there would be weight to that question. He did not respond right away, so she turned her attention back to him. She was surprised to find him glaring at her.

"You're doing an awful lot of talking," he said, curtly. "You should finish your meal before it gets cold."

There was silence wrought heavily with contention between them. Sarah stared. Glared. Just as he did at her. And it seemed they were now fighting a battle of wills as the issue hung evermore-dangerously overhead. Sarah narrowed her eyes. He wasn't budging. And somehow she knew he would stare her down all night if she let him.

"Does it have something to do with this mysterious research I keep hearing about?"

Now that certainly had an effect.

Jareth twitched. His brow drew tight. His hands gripped his arms tighter and he visibly recoiled against the pillar. She'd caught him off guard. Great. _Say your right words, the goblins said…._

"What?"

"Your research? The reason why you're stuck on this island?" She'd paint him a damn picture if that's what it took. He blinked at her, like he was genuinely confused, but she knew better than to play into it.

"They...told you of that?" he asked. For a moment, her response was silence. His expression had softened. The devilish grin now nowhere to be found. He was looking at her in a very interesting way, which had her worrying over the truth that, no, they really had not _told her of that_. Wanting to fish for as much information as possible however, she played it off as best she could.

"A bit." She kept her words frank, her poker-face steeled. Her efforts however, were entirely worthless.

" _A bit_?" Jareth repeated, and the subtle twitch in his eye told her he knew better. Damn. "And what exactly is _a bit_? Shall I call your bluff, Sarah?"

Sarah ground her teeth. She'd almost succeeded in disarming him. Though, despite his lack of answer, she now knew this was something of a tender subject for him. And _that_ was information in and of itself.

"Or-" she posed, rolling her eyes at him as if pride was all she ever needed. "-you could stop being so cryptic and just tell me yourself."

The hauteur he recognized in her posture was like looking into a mirror, and honestly he found it rather irritating. However, not only were her arms crossed but now also her legs. She was angling away from him and turning, literally, defensive. And from that he _knew_ she was forcing a front. He felt a tick in his jaw. The start of a very dastardly grin that he knew well enough to subdue.

"It's none of your business," he said, dismissively, and looked away before she could assault him with her glare. "Regardless, you needn't worry yourself over such things. While I think it funny to twist my father's arm in such a way, I have absolutely no intention of giving him what he wants."

"What he wants?" Sarah repeated. "You mean a grandchild?" Jareth was silent, but he nodded. "So, what, this is all a sham then? A marriage in name only?" she continued. Jareth peered back at her when she started shifting in her seat. She looked like she was getting ready to storm off. "You realize I swore to your father -The King- that I would do my duty _in its entirety,_ yes? And, unfortunately in this instance, it does in fact take _two_ to tango. If it means nothing to you then why the hell didn't you just marry some hoity-toity fairy princess or some shit? I could be home with my family right now!" Her temper showed in the rise in her voice as she spoke. She was almost yelling. Almost at her limit. Jareth, feeling a little bored with all the dramatics, sighed and lowered his head as he regarded her.

"But you're not," he said, simply. Sarah exhaled through her nose and held his gaze. "You _chose_ to come here. And I've given my word."

The heated air between them lulled with the breeze, and Sarah felt her passions deflating fast. He was right. He was insufferable, but he was right. She was here. And now, she could no longer leave. Jareth had, in fact, given _his word_ and Lochlan had said that a fae contact, once made, could not be broken. They were committed. Even if it was a farce. Even if it was nothing at all. They were committed to it. Her expression twitched with the acknowledgement, with the odd sense of comfort that then arose from the realization that Jareth, of all people, had just proved himself the most honest one of them all. This situation was...not as she expected. But that didn't make it bad. Yes, she'd given up her life, but it was _not_ for this marriage. It was in exchange for the life of her father. The rest didn't matter. She'd make the best of these circumstances. Either with, or in spite of _him_.

"...At least there's that," she muttered, feeling suddenly very, very tired. Jareth, shaking his head ever-so-slightly, closed his eyes and straightened from the column.

"Indeed," he said, absently, and stepped back to the window. He turned around and placed his hands against the sil as he sat back against it. As he watched her, he noted her now troubled manner and the way her eyes stayed low. He cracked a grin in response. "So please, as I keep saying, just shut up and _eat._ "

Sarah's narrowed eyes turned into nasty little things as she debated whether or not to allow him this victory. He was very clearly teasing her and, for the sake of their fragile _relationship_ , she decided to let the quip go. She huffed, turned around in her seat, tossed back the lid on her tray, and ate.

But even in all her obstination, she could only keep herself quiet for a minute or two.

"You're an idiot."

If she'd had the interest to look up, she'd have seen him smile. She was, however, deeply engrossed in the pleasure of filling her stomach, and shoved forkful after forkful into her mouth with little tact.

"Is that the best you can do? I think I'd rather you strike me again."

A little surprised by the playfulness of his response, Sarah paused and glanced over at him.

"I very well might, you shifty-ass, pig-headed, megalomaniac."

"Ah. That's more like it."

The sun had set. The landscape behind him turned grey and muted, and it was now the light of the sconces on the wall behind her that gave him luminance. He was reclining so leisurely as he stared at her, his crossed arms devoid of the tension which once guarded him from her. She thought it odd, that hint of familiarity, that hint of comfort that seemed to ground them both in the moment. She'd tried, over all these years, to _not_ think about him. To put everything that happened that day well behind her. It was terrifying, and magical, and...real.

And he was real. He was real, and he was here, and she was with him. And it was anything but terrifying and magical. She'd tried so hard not to think about him, that, as she regarded him now, she realized all she'd ever done was think about him.

Maybe that was why she'd agreed to Lochlan's terms so readily. Maybe that was why she was so _accommodating_ of it all. She played the martyr, but she was anything but. Deep down she _wanted_ to be here. She wanted to come back. She wanted something other then the mundane. She wanted, what she'd always wanted, was the future that stood before her now.

"You're not what I expected," she said, turning her attention away from him before her thoughts could damn her even further.

"Perhaps you should lower your standards."

"That's not what I meant," she replied, quickly. Then she paused. She lowered her fork and frowned. All her food was gone but that wasn't what bothered her. _Expectations._ The memory struck her. That's right. It was _her_ expectations that set the tone. What was she expecting now?

_What no-one knew was that the King of the goblins had fallen in love with the girl..._

Feeling a flare of panic, Sarah quickly shook her head and pushed away from the table. Now _that_ was ridiculous. _That_ was not something she should be recalling right now. Feeling herself about to become a feminine cliche, Sarah sighed and pushed it all away. She looked back to Jareth with a neutral expression.

"I should get back...they're probably wondering where I went."

"Doubtful."

Sarah shrugged, acknowledging that he was probably right, but that was beside the point.

"Still. I'm pretty sure Lochlan will be concerned, at the least."

"Do you let him tuck you in as well?"

By now she had stood and was in the process of pushing in her chair. She paused at the rather brusque nature of his statement and glanced up at him.

"Would it bother you if I did?" she asked, challengingly. Jareth huffed, but did not otherwise respond. Sarah rolled her eyes and stepped away from the table. "Thanks for the food, Jareth. The tender love and care was much appreciated." She took a few steps away, half-expecting, half-hoping, he might tell her to stop again. But he didn't. He didn't say anything at all.

Sarah paused. This was harder than she'd thought. One foot was tugging to leave and the other was begging to stay. She turned back, hoping he had not picked up on her ambivalence, and saw he was already awaiting her stare. His expression was...unreadable. And yet, she found herself wondering why exactly he'd stuck by her so long in the first place. Maybe he was more for company than he let on.

"Goodnight," she said, and waited -though for what, she didn't know.

"Goodnight, Sarah." There. That was a response. Only now she found it even harder to leave. It sounded baited. It sounded as constrained as she was feeling. What the hell was this? Was she projecting again? In the end, she could do nothing more than turn away. This was too new, too foreign, too strange. She needed a shower and a good night's sleep. She'd wrangle everything else tomorrow.

* * *

Jareth stared after her as she left down the hall whence she came, his eyes lowering down the skirt of her dress as it swayed with each step. She fell into shadow. Fell out of sight. And still, he stared. It was quiet. After all that fussing, it was quiet once more. He'd wanted to be left alone. To regain himself. To realize the error he'd just made. And then she was there. And then she was looking at him. And then she _stayed_.

His gaze fell vacantly to the floor, and he felt something he no longer recognized. Something misplaced and unwelcome. Something that had him frowning in deafening silence. He did not expect to ever see her again. He did not expect...to want to.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7, Quaint**

* * *

Sarah stared out at nothing as she made her way back to the dining hall. It was quiet, save for the sound of her own footsteps. It'd gotten dark, but the glow of sconces placed along the walls every ten feet was enough to guide her.

She felt odd. A little out of body. In disbelief over the fact that this was actually happening. She was actually stuck here. She'd tasted the fruit, and now it was real. She could never leave. Never see her family again. This was her home now. This dark, lonely, echo of a place.

She didn't understand why he'd chosen her. Why he'd been too proud to admit he wanted her at all. …But he did. He'd forced the proof of it down her own throat-

"Oh, Sarah, there you are. Finally."

Sarah looked up from the floor and spotted Lochlan at the end of the hall. She stopped and watched as he ran a slightly frazzled hand through his hair. "I was starting to get a little worried, you know-"

"Why?" she asked, brusquely. Lochlan paused his approach, his pleasant smile momentarily frozen in place.

"Ah...you've been gone for so long, I figured you must have gotten lost. That's all," he said, recovering from her scrutiny with angelic grace. Sarah's eyes were narrowed but not with suspicion. She was still feeling contemplative and it was hard to shake herself of the daze.

"Oh...no. I'm not lost. I was just heading back actually," she said, with a shrug. Lochlan's eyes scoured over her quickly.

"I see...had enough fresh air then?"

Sarah's eyes turned to the side.

"Yeah, I guess."

She gave in to cross her arms, and it was a show of frustration that confused Lochlan. She didn't look traumatized. The sentinels hadn't been roused. Actually, even in the diminished lighting, she looked a little flushed. Odd. He continued to observe her.

"I'm sorry if we put you off your dinner," he said, changing directions. "I suppose I should have made your role here more clear to them. Their reactions were...rude." He glanced at the floor and scratched the back of his head. Sarah tilted hers. "But please, don't let this one instance jade you. I've told you His Highness has been refusing suitors for a long time. If possible, I ask that you don't judge their surprise too harshly."

Sarah just stared at him for a minute. Was he...did he actually care for her opinion of them?

"Huh?" she responded, on instinct, and then shook her head a little. "Oh...right. Yeah, I don't really care about all that."

And now Lochlan looked surprised. His brow lifted and he cracked a one-sided grin.

"Really?"

Sarah, with her arms still crossed, shrugged one more time and glanced upwards at nothing.

"No. I expected it, honestly. I'm just glad it's out of the way now. Are they still in the dining hall?" With more important things on her mind than the possible prejudices of her castlemates, Sarah thought to keep the conversation as casual as possible. Lochlan's brow twitched and he glanced back down the hall whence he came.

"Oh, no. No, everyone has since retired for the evening," he said, and turned back to her with a smile. "You've been gone for quite a while actually." And then he placed a hand over his heart. "I'm sorry. I would have come looking for you earlier but I figured you would come back when you were ready. …And then dinner ended. Are you hungry? Surely, you must be. I'll join you if you'd like?" He sounded a little anxious and Sarah couldn't figure out why. He was being very kind. A little _too_ kind. Was he really just worried about her? That seemed kind of silly. Unless...there was a reason she shouldn't be out alone at night?

"Thank you, but that's alright. I've...already eaten," she said, glancing down to the floor as a queer little blush randomly bloomed across her face. What the fuck? There was a pause before Lochlan replied. Just a little one.

"Oh?"

Why that one word felt so provoking to her, she would never know. Sarah's hands tensed on her arms a little, and she shrugged again.

"Yeah…I uh...ran into Jareth and...had dinner with him," she said, nonchalantly. She kept her eyes averted but could actually feel Lochlan's roaming over her.

"What?" he asked, and immediately checked his tone. His smile turned awkward before continuing in a more casual voice. "I mean...really? I'm surprised. How did that go?"

Sarah's eyes, looking anywhere but at Lochlan, were entirely too revealing. He found himself biting his lip with glee.

"Fine...fine."

"So you are, in fact, staying then? It's official?" His excitement over the matter was just barely restrained. _In fact_ , Sarah could practically feel it tingling in the air around her.

"Yuppers."

She kept her jaw tight as she said that, as her crossed arms tightened even more. Lochlan took a few steps towards her to fill in the gap. He was smiling down at her. Widely.

"Wonderful. I told you he said yes."

Sarah's brow twitched before finally looking up at him. She knew just how insufferable his expression was going to be, and steeled herself for it. As expected, he looked like Christmas in July, and, not able to properly combat or mirror it, she rolled her eyes away just as quickly.

"Yeah...anyway, if dinner is over then I guess I should go back to my room, right?" she asked. She felt kind of awkward. What time was it anyway? What was she even supposed to do in this place? She highly doubted the Underground got cable.

"If you'd like," Lochlan replied, then offered her a hand. "May I walk you back?"

Her eyes were cast beyond him, but she accepted the gesture anyway.

"Sure."

They walked back to her room in silence, Sarah still engrossed in the over-analyzation of her and Jareth's talk. Lochlan, if he noticed her introspective mood at all, did not acknowledge it. They reached her door just as she remembered she now had a bone had to pick with him too.

"And...here we are," Lochlan said, releasing her arm and taking a step away. Sarah turned back and stared at him with a tight expression. He looked friendly, as usual, without a trace of guilt about him. Sarah felt her arms crossing over her chest again. "Do you need anything before I go?" he asked. Sarah licked the back of her teeth.

"Yeah, actually. You could answer a couple questions for me," she said, and pretended to kick a non-existent pebble across the floor. "Jareth and I...we had a very interesting conversation tonight-"

"Oh?"

Sarah's eyes darted up and locked on his. His response was quick, the perceived level of intrigue high. She chose her words carefully before continuing.

"Yes," she said, then slouched back against the door to her room. "Some of the things he said...were really quite alarming." She kept her tone coy hoping he might somehow slip up in reaction to it. However, rather than flighty, his attention on her gained focus. He held her gaze just as strongly as she held his.

"I have no doubt."

Oh. And now his tone was equally aloof. Sarah didn't much like that. She could feel a wall erecting itself between them now. Huh. So, maybe Jareth had been honest after all? She glanced away and tapped a finger against her bicep.

"Is there anything you'd like to tell me, Lochlan? Maybe some...important details you may have left out about The King's motivation in all this?" She erred by looking away, as fleeting as it was. His reaction was that of surprise. He blinked, and the growing tension about him fell slack instantly. She peered back at him with a very serious look on her face, but now he was smiling.

"The King?" he asked, with a subdued bit of relief. Sarah cocked a brow, her expression conveying impatience. Lochlan's grin curled on one side, and he all too readily bowed his head in defeat. "Alas, I concede you. I may have left out...a few details that I felt were not relevant to our negotiation." Again, there was not an ounce of apology about him and Sarah wasn't sure how to feel. She wanted to be angry but…like Jareth had said, did the details really matter? Especially when weighed against the life of her father? They didn't at the time...perhaps that had been her mistake.

"Such as?"

She watched as Lochlan straightened and tilted his head at her. He was tall, dressed in all black and, for the first time, actually looked kind of imposing in the lowered light. She was nowhere near afraid of him, but her newfound suspicions made her aware of the fact that they were alone, in the dark, near her bedroom-

"What did he tell you?" he countered. Sarah shook her head.

"Uh-uh. Nope. You're going to fess up, Lochlan. I'm owed that much." She kept her posture strong with surprisingly little effort. He tested her gaze for a moment, and then sighed.

"Yes...you are."

His response surprised her, enough so that she started leaning up off the door as he turned and took a small step away.

"You mentioned The King's motivation? I infer you're referring to his desire for an heir?"

"Yeah."

"Then I presume you already know the answer to your question," he said, to her dissatisfaction. Sarah shook her head with annoyance.

"Well now I want to hear it from you. Jareth said his father wants to use our child to write him out of succession. Is that true?"

"Technically...yes."

"Technically?" Sarah repeated. Her eyes on him we're cutting, but he was not looking back at them. His posture was a little tense, the halfcocked smile still on his face straining. Sarah did not have the patience for this. "What about that story with the rising families? About strengthening the bloodline and Jareth settling down? Was that bullshit?"

She sounded angry now and it was something that had Lochlan snapping back to attention. There was a little tick in his expression, like he was nervous. Sarah didn't quite understand it.

"No. Nothing I've told you was a lie, Sarah," he said, sternly, and then reached up to readjust the lapels of his jacket. Sarah observed him closely. Why the hell was he so uncomfortable now? "Like I said, I simply left out what I considered to be irrelevant details."

"Seems pretty damn relevant to me," Sarah shot back. In a moment of frustration, she threw up her hands and glared away. "What the hell does that even mean, anyway? _Technically_?"

A tiny wince creased Lochlan's eye before responding.

"It is...as a last resort," he said, with some reluctance. Sarah raised a brow in demand to elaborate. "Jareth's sabbatical has taken longer than expected. His Majesty is...starting to feel some pressure from the nobles," Lochlan continued, then paused to inhale and exhale deeply. "Should Jareth fail to complete his work, he cannot become King. Should this happen, without a grandchild to replace him, His Majesty's bloodline will lose the throne they've held for thousands of years. Jareth perceives this as an effort to tame him, or even disregard him. When, really, His Majesty's only aim is to prevent further dissent."

"So...this _is_ all about legacy then? That's it? Our marriage isn't just to bolster the ranks, it's an insurance policy?"

She wasn't sure if she would prefer an answer of yes or no, but what she did know was that he better not be fucking lying to her.

"Precisely. Yes."

His words were short, candid. Sarah loathed that she could not discern their sincerity.

"And? What if it comes time to cash in?" she asked him, crossing her arms again only to quickly start waving a flippant hand through the air. "Is he going to try to take my baby from me and raise it in the capital while Jareth and I rot on this island? Because I will tell you both right now to fuck off."

Lochlan stared at her for a moment. He wasn't um...expecting this.

"Sarah-"

"I'm not done yet," she cut him off, holding his gaze with a level of assertion he was equally surprised by. "I don't know what kind of trouble Jareth is in, but it's pretty clear there's a lot of it. My future here is uncertain enough already, and now I find out I've rolled up in the middle of some very serious political faerie turmoil? The King promised to crown me if I have a kid. Well, what the hell is going to happen to me if Jareth loses _his_ crown?"

Lochlan's blank stare was broken by an arching of brow. He blinked, and then that incessant smile of his curled back into place.

"Ah, so your outrage is less in the interest of my deceit and more in that of self-preservation?" he asked, with a hint of amusement. Sarah's jaw clenched but Lochlan cared not. He looked away with a rather haughty air about him. "Hm, you'll do well here."

"Don't patronize me, Lochlan. I'm pissed," she snapped at him, and then pointed a nasty finger in his direction. "You can tell _The King_ what I said. If he wants my kid to become Jareth's replacement, then fine. But I'm coming along with it. I am going to have a say and I am going to be its mother and raise it the way I want. If he has a problem with that, then he can kiss his entire scheme goodbye."

She was starting to fume a little and, thankfully for him, he must have finally picked up on it. He paused and the playful air about him faded. He angled back towards her, his eyes turning more serious (and a bit worried) as he regarded her.

"I didn't realize you would find this so offensive. I will certainly...relay the message," he said, then winced. "-though...a bit more politely perhaps."

"Good," Sarah said, tersely, and glanced away. "What did he even do to piss off his father so bad anyway?"

She looked back when he did not immediately respond. Their gazes crossed and he looked...uncomfortable again.

"He did not tell you?"

Sarah paused before responding. This felt like a trap.

"...No."

"Well...then it's not for me to say."

His voice had lulled with dispassion, and it was a queer change in tone that had her growing even more frustrated. She growled a little in the back of her mind.

"So you're not going to tell me either?" she asked. Lochlan shook his head.

"No."

"I thought I could trust you, Lochlan."

"You can," he replied, shrugging, and averted his eyes with a look of regret. "And I hope, this minor bit of omission aside, that you still do."

"Minor?" Sarah repeated, the word sounding positively outlandish. She scowled and pinched the bridge of her nose as she shook her head at the floor. "Jesus...I've been here for a few hours and already this place is filling up with secrets. Given my position in the middle of this clusterfuck, don't you think I deserve to be clued in?" she asked. She did not see, but Lochlan's look softened with sympathy.

"I do."

"Well?"

He exhaled roughly and took a few steps towards her. Sarah straightened and watched him.

"The things you're concerned about are not secrets, Sarah. They are, however, not something I am allowed to talk about. To anyone. Period. If you want answers, you'll need to get them directly from Jareth," he explained, in as calming a manner as possible. Sarah held his gaze, testing it for honesty. Unfortunately, she no longer had any idea who she could or should be relying on and only glanced away with a dissatisfied huff.

"Yeah, I don't see that happening any time soon," she said, grumpily, with a contemplative pout to boot. Lochlan couldn't help but crack a grin.

"Good thing you have plenty of time, then," he replied, and smiled wider in anticipation of her returning side eye. "Do you have any other questions? Perhaps ones that I can answer?"

He'd gone back to being pleasant. _Friendly_. Sarah kept her eyes narrowed.

"...No. At least not tonight," she said, with an air of defeat as she willed away the rest of her anger. Getting worked up about this would be pointless, she knew that. If Lochlan, or anyone else, was determined not to tell her things then there was very little chance she was going to change their mind. At least right away. She'd just have to find other means of answering her questions..."I don't appreciate being manipulated, Lochlan," she said, after a moment of thought.

"And neither did I enjoy manipulating you." She looked up at the compulsion of his tone. It was soft, earnest. Or at least, she thought it was. "But, I _was_ honest with my intentions. I've told you, more than once, that it was my prerogative to win you over by _any_ means necessary."

He gave her a shrewd (and entirely condescending) eye as he said that. As he reaffirmed her suspicion that he was not and did not have any intention of being nor saying _sorry_. So, it was her fault for not being quick-witted enough? Seriously? Fucking fae.

"Do you hate me now?" Lochlan asked. Sarah had completely forgotten about retorting. She'd given in to glower at the shadows as her fingers curled into her biceps. She did, however, glare over at the down right grating sound of such facetiousness.

She stared at him for a moment, her lip begging to snarl.

"...Let me sleep on it."

Whether or not those words held sarcasm was irrelevant to Lochlan, for the mere sight of her looking so riled and childish brought an honest grin to his face. He knew it was a bit tasteless, but he could no longer conceal his amusement. She had such a quick temper and, despite present qualms, a very discerning eye. He was not phased by her anger towards him. He was just too excited.

"Very well then," he said, doing little to stifle his smirk as he placed a hand to his heart and bowed. "Goodnight, Sarah."

He heard her huff in admonishment and the sound of the door handle clicking open.

"Yeah. G'night," she said, and promptly slipped around it before closing it in his face.

* * *

The sound of the door slamming shut behind her was loud, but presently Sarah was disappointed it hadn't been deafening. She was so annoyed. So thoroughly irritated that Lochlan could dare stand there and look so smug while revealing his trickery. Did he not care what happened to her or her hypothetical children? Why was she finding Jareth's arrogance to be so much more tolerable?

Oh. Right. Because Jareth had yet to betray her. Because she'd started out without an ounce of trust for him to betray. Whereas, stupidly it seemed, she'd given it to Lochlan all but immediately.

Well, at least he _had_ owned up to it.

With a very rough sigh, she uncrossed her arms and slouched a little as she took a step into the room. Without the assistance of daylight, the atmosphere changed considerably. It was very dark, the pale pastel and earthly tones were now warmed and enriched by the light of many candelabras. The fire was already blazing. The trunk general Fostad had given her was erected in the same spot on the floor in front of her, and her backpack, containing her only real possessions, was casually tossed on the bed.

She took a few steps towards it and they echoed. Oh. Well that was off-putting. She placed a hand against the banister at the corner of the bed, admiring the smoothness of the varnish and the intricacy of the carvings laid into it, before reaching out and unzipping her pack.

Thankfully, she'd packed just one pair of proper pajamas -flannel shorts and an oversized t-shirt. None of that frilly lace shit she'd been forced to wear at the garrison. She glanced around looking for a clock; she spotted one and saw it was nearing ten-thirty. Not exactly late, but probably too late to go exploring, she thought.

With nothing better to do, and needing to wash away the day's crock of bullshit anyway, she gathered her things and headed towards the bathroom.

The corridor was short. Only about fifteen feet. At the end, on the right, was an archway leading into a...very gratuitous amount of tile.

Sarah just kind of stood on the threshold for a moment. Lochlan had warned her but...it was still hard to believe. The rest of the castle -hell, the rest of the city- was a crumbling pile of shit and yet, unless she'd passed out and was now dreaming, she swore she stood on the precipice of a five star luxury spa.

Almost everything was marble. The floor, and several ionic columns, were carved from a kind she'd never seen before, with running veins so thick and saturated with color it looked like wet paint. Tones of burnt umber, amber, and azure dazzled the eye from floor to ceiling. There was blue-tinted glass which framed what looked to be a very large walk in shower, and golden banisters that lined the walls and composed the trimming of the counters and sinks. Yes, _sinks_. There were no windows, but instead a mirror edged with frost which spanned the entire length of the far wall across from her.

In the center of the room, pressed against the left wall, and framed by several columns, was a tub. It was white, rimmed by several marble steps leading into it. And, as she walked further into the room, she could see a little chandelier hanging in the dome high above it.

She walked around it and spied conjoining rooms. One housed the toilet, and another was, what she labeled as, a _relaxation cove_. The little area featured a pale blue ottoman and foot rest, golden oak end tables, and some fancy, foreign looking plants. There were a couple mysterious doors and faceless cabinets holding rolled towels and other surprisingly modern toiletries and trinkets too, but she'd inspect all that later.

Sarah let her backpack drop to the floor as she gawked from floor to ceiling and back again. Well shit.

As tempting as that tub, in all its insane glory, was, what Sarah needed more was a scalding shower. She approached it warily, half-anticipating goblin trickery, and looked around inside for the proper mechanics. The inside was covered in blue tile of a darker hue, the metal knobs she'd been looking for were gold, like everything else, and were located just across from her.

She was so, so happy this dimension had modern plumbing.

Unsurprisingly, her shower was perfect. The water pressure was something her middle-class self had never known the pleasure of, and the heat bouncing off her skin provided a pseudo-massage she'd direly needed. She waited until the pads of her fingers became prunes before exiting, and even then she was reluctant. The knobs squeaked as she turned off the water, and she sighed as the heavy amount of steam she'd been breathing in helped clear both her sinuses and her mind.

Her eyes lowered as she wrung out her hair. It was quiet again. She'd never realized just how unsettling silence could be. At home, there was rarely a moment of silence. If Karen wasn't playing music, her father was watching tv. And if both were out then Toby was hooting and hollering at some video game or romping with friends. But still, the silence that surrounded her now felt heavy. Perturbed. She was starting to think maybe she hadn't thought this through after all. Maybe she had allowed Lochlan to take advantage of her. She wasn't a mother. She had no idea what it would be like to become one. How would she feel about this situation once that actually happened? It was easy to make such big promises when you had no idea what you were doing, when it was all based on what ifs in a potentially very distant future.

But now she was here. Now her father was healthy. Now she had a chance to really think about it. This was a dangerous arrangement. She talked big to Lochlan just now but...she knew, if push came to shove, she stood no chance against the faerie King of Erewhon.

At least she could agree with Jareth in one regard -giving his father what he wanted was never going to happen.

Because the scenery called for a certain amount of indulgence, Sarah donned a plush purple robe she found hanging in one of the cabinets. As she ran her hand along the too-soft-to-be-real collar, she thought about giving it a proper monogram as she set out her feminine wares on the sink counter.

She brushed her teeth, lotioned her face, did everything she would normally do before bed. But, now it was strange. Sterile. Like being in a hotel. The quagmire was so strong she actually took a moment to wonder: would she ever be able to regard this as her _home_?

She was falling into introspection again as she exited the spa for her bedroom. It felt cooler now that she'd showered, and looked a little brighter now that her eyes had adjusted.

The fire cracked and she silently paced throughout the room.

She inspected the shadows first. Then the nooks. Then the crannies. She kept expecting to see beady little eyes creeping on her, but no such luck. Where were all the goblins?

By now she was trailing along the far wall, the one with the epic fresco. She ran a finger along it as she traced the forms of artfully nude nymphs playing in the grass. They were being delightfully pounced on by critters: a rabbit, a fox, a...something. For a moment she thought she saw faces in the trees but convinced herself that was just stress getting to her.

She looked at the clock again and saw it was nearing midnight. Damn. She should probably get to bed. God knew what tomorrow would have in store for her.

She stopped pacing when she crossed the french door. It led to a balcony, a large one, which made for a perfect pedestal for the moon as it glowed brightly above a very clear night sky. She tilted her head against the glass as she stared up at it, as she watched the twinkling of stars fade in and out.

This wasn't so bad, she told herself. This didn't have to be bad.

Her brow twitched and she straightened at the sight of a darkened silhouette breaking the night sky. She narrowed her eyes and tried to track it, but it wasn't until the creature passed the moon that she was able to discern what it was.

A bird. It was a bird flying.

But...wait a minute.

Seeing an owl in the Underground was a strange sight indeed. More so because she thought she recognized it. Curiosity placed her hand on the handle and begged her to push it open, but she resisted. Instead she watched the creature turn, revealing the shape of its wings as it passed by the moon once more, and then left in the direction whence it came. She stood there silently for a moment, watching it leave and feeling peculiarly dispassionate. She wondered why she hesitated. Wondered why she was now suddenly dejected.

And she wondered, more than anything, why she gotten such a strong feeling that…it was _him_.

* * *

Sarah awoke the next day feeling rested in body if not mind, and begrudgingly pulled herself upright. The light of morning was garish. Blinding. And it gave her the realization that the rejuvenation of her previous awakenings probably had nothing at all to do with magic. She snarled and clawed a hand over her eyes.

It'd taken her a while to fall asleep, so she was feeling a little groggy. A part of her couldn't help but be on edge, conscious of her vulnerability in this strange and worrisome place. But, as it turned out, all was well for the moment.

She'd dragged herself out of bed, combed her fingers through her tangled, half-damp hair, and was just starting to wonder how the hell she was going to get some breakfast when a little knock came at the door.

Her eyes darted from left to right, and then she called out, "Come in?"

She was surprised, and relieved, that it was not Lochlan who entered her room but the procession of maids she'd met the previous day. Her relief was fleeting, however, and quickly turned to confusion as she watched all five of them enter her room with lowered heads.

Feeling suddenly ambushed, Sarah took the initiative to break the ice as quickly as possible.

"Um...hi?"

Goddamn. Again? She really needed to work on her greeting skills.

Sirene was the first to raise her head. She smiled pleasantly with her hands clasped out in front of her.

"Good morning, Mistress. I see you're already awake."

She sounded nice enough. Sarah's expression retracted to _mild_ suspicion.

"Um...yeah. I just got up. Is...there a schedule or something? Sorry...no one told me anything."

Her eyes flickered over the other four, observing the way Greta, Arlyn, and June all peered around the room like it was something new to them. Talia, at the back of the group, offered little more than a disinterested side eye.

"Oh, no. Nothing like that," Sirene said, with a gentle wave. "Lord Leche simply asked us to check in on you. It is your first morning in the castle, after all."

Hm...that made sense. But she was still skeptical.

"Oh...well, thank you, but it's unnecessary, really," Sarah said, dismissively. Then she turned and inadvertently caught her reflection in a mirror. Fuck. Could fate have given her just five minutes to brush out her hair?

The maids, perfectly put together at seven-fifteen in the goddamn morning, all stared at her with very questioning looks.

"I'm sure you all have other things to do. I don't want to impose on you," Sarah explained. It was Greta who spoke up next.

"Oh it's fine. There's only so much to clean anyway," she said, looking so merry as she fluttered a playful hand in her direction. Sarah was about to smile when Talia turned and angled her head down at her.

"Yes. His Highness has not yet made any messes."

There was something...ulterior to the way Talia was looking at her, but Sarah could not for the life of her figure it out. In the end, she wrote it off and looked away.

"Oh," she said, awkwardly, and teetered on her heel. Arlyn stepped forward during the break in conversation, revealing a box of goodies she'd been holding.

"We also...wanted to give you these," she said, her head lowering in bashfulness as she held the box out. Sarah, who's arms had since crossed defensively, lowered them as her brow scrunched.

"Huh?"

Sirene smiled and gestured for Arlyn and June (who Sarah realized was also holding a box) to step towards her from the back.

"Well, after you left dinner last night, we all got to talking about you being from the Aboveground," she said, a comment that had Sarah's posture turning guarded once more. "Lord Leche mentioned you traveled the veil and...well, we thought that meant you probably weren't able to bring many belongings along with you." She paused and rummaged through the box Arlyn held, and then surprised Sarah by pulling out a hair brush. "Forgive us for being presumptuous, but we thought to give you some things of ours. It wouldn't do to have our mistress go unaccommodated."

Sarah, in a moment of genuine surprise, stood dumbly for one second too long before responding. She looked down the line from Sirene to Talia. Aside from Talia's averted eyes, they all looked...happy. Eager. She wasn't expecting that.

"Oh. Oh wow. Really?" she asked, forcing herself to show a proper level of appreciation as she smiled and finally took a step towards them.

Sirene's smile twitched anew and she gestured towards the other girls.

"Why don't you set those down on the table there," she said, and Arlyn and June obeyed. "Come, Mistress, let us show you what we've brought."

She beaconed Sarah like one would a puppy and it made her realize just how apprehensive she was behaving. Shooing away those feelings, she relaxed her posture and joined them all at the dining table.

"We weren't sure what you would need, so we each donated a bit of everything," Greta said, reaching into the boxes without reservation and pulling out bottles of this or that. Sarah's eyes inspected eagerly. "Although...most of the products are half empty. I hope that's okay?" She turned and locked eyes with Sarah then. Sarah blinked and tried not to let her brow knit together.

"What? No. No I don't mind. I actually...really appreciate you doing this for me," she said, and gave in to look through the contents herself. There were things like perfume, shampoos, lotions, jewelry, combs, a curling rod, a puzzle book, some pens even, and a whole bunch of other random bits meant to occupy her time. "I never even thought about most of this," she added, feeling a little blindsided by their generosity. She looked up and spanned her eyes to each of them. "These are all your personal belongings? Are you sure you want to give this to me? You don't have to, really," she implored, hoping this wasn't something they had been ordered to do. Her humility seemed to please them, the spirit of the room perking up with their combined energies. Or maybe it was just Greta.

"Oh but we must!" Greta exclaimed. Sarah turned her attention towards her. "Shipments only come in every few weeks. If we don't give you something, you'll be living like a goblin until the next ferry," she explained. This time Sarah's brow did furrow. Oh right. The ferry. Wow, she really hadn't thought of any of that.

"Yes. Madam Miri also wanted us to let you know to make a list of things you'll need or want to give to Captain Pomona," Sirene added. Sarah looked over. "The boat will leave later today. Not much notice, I know, but such as it is." Sirene shrugged in apology and looked down to the box. "But if there's anything you need right away that isn't here, please tell us. We'll do our best to fulfill your request."

"Do you have something to wear?"

Sarah looked up and across the table at June. She was staring at her a little wide eyed, shy, and seeming to immediately regret the sound of her own voice.

"Um, yeah. General Fostad gave me some dresses so...I'll be good for a few days at least," she said. June darted her eyes away.

"Oh I see. That's good. He's very kind-"

"We were trying to guess your measurements last night and determined June is the closest one to your size," Greta interrupted. "She's very graciously offered to donate some of her clothes to you should you desire them." She ended the sentence with a bow of the head. Sarah, very unused to such treatment, was starting to feel a little put off. Maybe Lochlan was right. Maybe she'd judged them too quickly...

"Oh. I see. Thank you, June," Sarah said, with a head dip of her own. June's returning smile was meek.

"You're welcome, Mistress."

Sarah, noticing a very quiet Talia standing off to the side of the table, gave her the benefit of the doubt as well and hoped her averted eyes were a product of pride rather than distaste. She went out on a limb and offered an olive branch.

"Thank you, too, Talia, for anything you've contributed. Going out of your way like this means a lot."

There was a certain tension in Talia's posture, a confirmation that she was a little miffed about parting with her treasures, but had done so all the same. She looked over and bowed her head.

"It's only our duty, but you're welcome."

Wow. Friends.

As little headway as that was, at least it was something. Sarah almost huffed in amusement before looking away.

"So, what kind of stuff can I put on this list?" she asked. Sirene set out a small decorated box, with contents unknown, on the table.

"Anything really. We are pampered here in that regard. Anything you can think of that can be transported by the ferry shall be brought to you."

"Even things from the Aboveground?" Sarah asked. She peered up when what followed was silence.

Sirene and the other women all looked around from one another before she responded.

"I...don't see why not? There are merchants who operate between the worlds, so I'm sure someone can procure whatever might be on your mind," she said, with a smile.

"Hm. That's pretty nice…"

Another knock at the door had all six women looking back reflexively.

"Come in?"

Sarah watched with a tensed brow as the door opened to reveal a very chipper looking Lochlan. He peered over, caught each of their gazes, and smiled. Remembering she was still annoyed with him, Sarah's lips pursed.

He closed the door behind him and made his approach.

"Ah. So you're all here. Good," he said, standing by Sarah's side, and spared special smiles for each of the maids who did all but melt in response. Sarah averted her eyes. Why the hell was he standing so close to her? "Good morning, Miss Williams. Did you sleep well?"

She got the feeling there was nuance to that question, but for the sake of the women surrounding her she chose to let it go. …mostly

"A determination has yet to be made," she said, cryptically, with a suddenly coarse tone that caught the attention of the maids. Sarah looked away from him and focused on the wares in front of her. "What are you doing here? I assumed you sent them in your place."

The maids stood silently as they pondered the remarkable audacity with which she was speaking to their beloved Lord Leche, and pondered even more the way his smile only grew more amused in reaction to it.

"So you are still upset with me," he said, teasingly. Sarah tried not to scowl. "What must I do to win back your favor?"

Sarah, staring so very pointedly at a jewel encrusted hair pin, bit her cheek before responding.

"You could apologize, firstly." She looked up at him with challenge in her eyes. He held her gaze for a moment, seeming to weigh the pros and cons of getting into _all_ _that_ with half the castle's staff as witness, and then huffed in defeat. He lowered his head and raised his hands submissively.

"Very well. I'm sorry."

There was a high-handedness to those words that was in no way lost on her. Like hell he was sorry. She'd hash this out with him again later…

"Thanks," she replied, curtly, and rolled her eyes away. Greta pouted as she watched the exchange. Whatever could Lord Leche have possibly done to slight her?!

"Is there something we can do for you, Lord Leche?" she asked, hoping the bubble in her voice would perk up the spirit of the room. "As you can see, we're spending some quality time with our mistress. Just like you asked."

Lochlan's eyes lowered from Greta to the table.

"Indeed. Fret not, I shan't take up too much of your time. I simply wanted to check on Miss Williams before starting rounds."

Greta smiled widely in response, like he was being so gosh darn charitable. Sarah's brow furrowed in quiet confusion. Rounds?

"Thanks, but I don't need a babysitter," she said, turning her now bored look back up at Lochlan. Lochlan shrugged.

"That's unfortunate, because that is in fact my job," he said. Sarah couldn't tell if he was being facetious and chocked it up to her lingering annoyance towards him. She looked away, so he set his sights on the maids. "Have you told her about the supply order yet?"

Sirene nodded.

"Yes. We were just discussing it, actually," she said.

"Good," he replied, and then looked down to Sarah again. "I've asked the captain to dock for an extra day, that way you have time to appropriately compile your requests. The ship will be departing at dawn tomorrow, so please pass along your contribution to either myself or Madam Miri before then."

Sarah blinked and nodded.

"Got it."

Lochlan's smile twitched, a little impressed by her stubbornness.

"Well, I see you're in good hands. Unless there's anything you need of me, I'll be on my way," he said, and bowed to them all. Sarah caught the way June nibbled a grin from the corner of her eye. "Good day ladies."

He left quite promptly after that and, honestly, Sarah was a little surprised. She'd expected a higher degree of surveillance. Maybe even a routine she was expected to follow or a training period where she learned what exactly a _Mistress_ was supposed to even do.

Unable to decide if looking this particular gift horse in the mouth was a bad thing, she brought her attention back to the ladies.

"So um...have you all eaten breakfast yet? Is there a specific time for that or…?"

She watched them all blink in gross confusion.

"Oh. You want _breakfast_?" Greta asked, as if the word were foreign. Sarah's eyes began to dart.

"Kind of…"

" _Heh_. Forgive her, Mistress. Greta can be a bit crass," Sirene said.

"Hey-"

"We actually do not gather for meals outside of supper. We are given trays in our rooms and break for lunch wherever we happen to be," she explained, completely disregarding the way Greta was pouting at her. Sarah frowned a little. Oh.

"Okay...how do I get food then?" she asked.

"If you are here, you simply need pull that cord," Sirene said, and pointed over at a long rope hanging in close proximity to the door. Sarah's eyes followed and then narrowed. She hadn't realized that was functional. Thought it was some weird decoration or something. "A goblin will come to take your request to the kitchens. If you are elsewhere in the castle, summon a guard and relay the order to them."

Sarah pursed her lips as she pondered and turned back to the group.

"Hm...okay. Are there any other rules or customs here that I should know about?" she asked. The five women all exchanged glances once again, and then Talia shrugged.

"Not really," she said, and looked away again. Sarah caught the ambivalent motion of Arlyn's hand raising and lowering in response.

"Well, there is the one about the dungeons," she said, and looked over to lock eyes with Sarah. "We are not meant to enter there."

"Yes, but it's kept locked anyway," Talia said, dismissively. "Besides, who would ever intentionally venture into that place? I can only imagine what's kept down there." She crossed her arms and looked at Sarah. "Arlyn is right, but aside from that, this place doesn't really have rules or operate by court custom. It doesn't operate by any custom really."

Sarah, feeling a smidge more interested in the mysteriously off-limits dungeon than she knew was good for her, forced her curiosity to get in line behind all her other suspicions, and she roamed her gaze away.

"Interesting…" she said and, on that note, thoughts of deep, dark and ominous successfully brought her round to the next topic on her list of inquiries. "So um...do any of you know where His Highness is?" She winced a little as she said that. Like she was embarrassed for it. Her eyes peered from one woman to the next, but their expressions were completely frank.

"No," was the general consensus.

"Do you know what he's usually up to around now?" she asked instead. Damn. Why did this feel so awkward? This was a normal thing to ask, wasn't it? A normal thing to want? Maybe that was it. Maybe she was just surprised _she_ was the one, for the third time now, going out of her way to pursue _him_.

Sarah found the way all five maids either lowered their heads or averted their eyes uncomfortably to be very…curious.

"No," Arlyn replied, her posture turning a little tense. "We um...we try to avoid him, actually…"

And now Sarah was scowling.

"Why?"

The air that carried that word was permeated with awkwardness. None of them responded right away until, finally, Sirene took the lead.

"It's simply...best to stay out of his way," she said, with a very forced and very unconvincing smile.

"-especially when he's...in a temper," Greta tacked on, pointing a finger in the air and then curling it back down as the instinctive fervor drained from her voice. She too looked tense. Deflated. That did not make any sense at all to Sarah.

"What happens when he's in a temper?" she asked. There was alarm steadily building in her, that and bewilderment. A feeling which peaked when Talia huffed with laughter and shot a very wry grin in Sarah's direction.

"He makes _messes_."

Sarah was quiet. It seemed, all too suddenly, that the aura about the table had shifted dramatically. They looked uncomfortable, but Sarah couldn't figure out the source of it. Was this like what happened with Lochlan last night? Was she simply nearing a topic they were not allowed to talk about? Or were they afraid? Afraid of Jareth.

She realized very quickly that her presumptions about this place and these women's roles in it could have been devastatingly wrong. She'd assumed they were sleeping with him, or at least in all likelihood were. They were the only women on the island and all were attractive. But...as she continued to analyze their mannerisms in that split second, she acknowledged that they could very well be sleeping with him. But that didn't mean it was consensual.

She wanted to ask, but it was impossible. How the hell should she phrase this? Lochlan had warned her he may abuse her...she wanted to know if there was actual grounds for that. She wanted to know if he was already abusing _them_.

June, who had been quiet as a mouse for most of the conversation, frowned with worry and tilted her head. "Are you alright, Mistress?"

Sarah's gaze shot up from the table and was stupidly unguarded. Her mouth hung open in preparation to speak, but she didn't. She just stared at June in disconcertion.

Talia cracked a grin and turned her slanted eyes away.

"I know that look. She's wondering if any of us are sleeping with him."

Thankfully, Sarah was not the only one who's reaction to Talia's brazenness was total shock. Greta actually gasped and covered her mouth as all of them turned very sharply, with very impassioned eyes, back towards her. Talia, reveling in the attention, actually stood a little straighter because of it.

Sarah, upset that Talia could misconstrue and render her thoughts to little more than pettiness, scowled intently and spoke up.

"Actually, that's not something I would ask. It's none of my business," she said, forcing herself to sound stoic out of spite if nothing else. Talia, amused, angled a sharp brow in response.

"But you'd like to know all the same, right?"

Sarah, not having any idea how to properly respond to such obvious provocation, stood in silence as her frustration simmered. Luckily, that tension lasted for only a few seconds before Arlyn, out of all of them, provided an answer.

"Well...I haven't," she said, her shoulders hunched and her head lowered as a blush spread across her pale face. Sarah severed the tethers between her and Talia's gazes to look over at her. She was about to say something when Greta suddenly slapped poor, flustered Arlyn clear across the back.

"No way! Really? I thought I was the only one!" she said, carelessly, with a certain degree of exclamation that did not fit the conversation. Sarah's brow started to draw together again.

Next it was June who stepped forward, with the same meek manner as Arlyn, and peered around to Greta as she said, "Me neither."

Greta, in such spirited disbelief, placed her hands on her hips and huffed.

"Well how about that. What about you, Talia?" she asked, leaning to the side to look around Arlyn as she spoke. Talia, looking a little irritated, tightened her crossed arms and raised her nose.

"A Lady does not kiss and tell," she said, and snarled when Greta's immediate response was an obnoxious _pfff_.

"Spoil sport," she said, and turned to the other side to face Sirene. "Care to weigh in, Sirene?"

The way Sarah looked over so swiftly betrayed her curiosity. But really, she was confused, having been prepared to hear all about _His Highness's exploits_. But this...instead of relief, Sarah could feel a new string of suspicion building. Why did the possibility of him _not_ sleeping with them seem somehow...worse?

Sirene, regarding the look in Sarah's eye very astutely, shifted her attention to Greta, the words she spoke coming out very calmly...and shrewdly.

"Talia is right. This is not something a proper lady should be airing about so liberally. Madam would be very displeased should she hear of this."

Sarah picked up on the tension lining Sirene's words and looked over the other women. Arlyn and June were frowning, lowering their heads in shame. Greta, while impatient and not quite taking the scolding as seriously, sighed and lowered her head as well.

"Of course. Forgive us," Greta said, a line she'd no doubt recited many, many times. Sarah pursed her lips. She'd been given an ample amount of food for thought just now. Currently she wasn't sure how she even felt about it. Inescapable jealously aside, her primary concern _had_ been for their wellbeing. But...it didn't seem like any of them were being victimized. Certainly not from the way Greta had made light of it just now.

"Mistress, I apologize as well for our rudeness. _Talia_ should know better." Sirene spoke pleasantly, though it came with a hint of beratement that made Talia flinch in response. Clearly Sirene was their alpha and, much to the validation of Sarah's spite, it seemed even bitter Talia knew when to come to heel.

Sarah smoothed her features into an equally pleasant smile.

"It's alright. No harm done."

"You are most kind."

"So um…with that out of the way…" Sarah started, rolling her eyes away as she very awkwardly changed topics. "What's the game plan then? Should I go shower? Is there anything I'm supposed to do?"

"There...is no plan, really. We were bade to serve you, so here we are."

"But you still have other work to do, right?"

"Yes...but we will find the time for that later."

"That's unnecessary," Sarah said, dismissively. "Like I told Lord Leche, I don't need a babysitter. I'm fine with being on my own if you need to get back to your posts. I don't want to be a burden on you."

"Aw, Mistress. You're no burden to us," Greta said.

"She's trying to get us to leave, Greta. Geesh. Can't you tell?" Talia brusquely interrupted. Sarah tried not to scowl.

"Um. I wasn't actually. I was just trying to be considerate."

"And we appreciate it, Mistress," Sirene replied. By now her glare on Talia was near murderous and, in the effort not to offend their new master any further, pushed them all out before Sarah could say otherwise. "Come ladies. Let Mistress settle in. She will call for us if she needs anything. Yes?" she asked. Sarah nodded.

"Yeah. Sure."

"May we see you at dinner then," she replied, and they all bowed. They turned and left after that, just as promptly as they'd arrived, and Sarah did nothing but blink at the spot they once occupied. Goodness...this was going to be just like high school, wasn't it?

* * *

Despite her earlier quandary, Sarah found herself relieved to be left alone once more. While she was genuinely touched they had gone out of their way to make her feel welcomed, it was just too soon to trust them. They seemed nice. A little cliquey, but nice. Still. If she'd learned anything from high school it was just how precarious _friendships_ like that could be. Especially when these potential friends were backed by magic. She twisted the ring on her finger as she thought.

Not knowing what else to do, Sarah thought to start her day by exploring the castle. She imagined it would take at least a week, so hopefully she wouldn't die of boredom _too_ soon. It'd only been a few days, but already she was feeling withdrawals from missing her weekly sitcoms.

Thanks to Sirene, she was able to order in. She pulled on the rope, anticipating a loud ringing or boom of some sort, but all was quiet. She stared at it for a minute, then pulled it again. Was...it broken? She reached out to pull it a third time when a knock sent her jolting to her tiptoes.

T'was a goblin, as foretold. The creature stood to her knee and removed it's cap before bowing to her. "How may I serve you, milady," it asked.

"Um, I'd like something for breakfast please —if it's not too much trouble."

"Of course. Right away, milady." The creature bowed once more and then left, and Sarah was oddly suspicious of how tame and well mannered it'd been.

She dressed, combed out her hair, dabbled in the box of trinkets left for her and, even as she spritzed and dusted and painted and crimped, hoped that no such things had been nefariously tampered with. How unfortunate would that be? she thought as she applied her mascara while squinting into the mirror.

Maybe the blush she'd been given would turn her skin purple. Maybe the perfume would make her smell like the bog. Was she being too harsh on them by harboring such suspicions? Apparently not, as, currently, she wasn't exactly taking any precautions against such a fate.

Bring it on, she vacantly thought. It wasn't like her life hadn't taken a ridiculous enough turn already.

The goblin returned with her meal and placed it on the dining table for her, then removed the lid and bowed as it asked if there was anything else she needed. "No," she promptly responded, as the sight and heavenly waft of a raspberry pecan tart hit her right in the gut. She added on a thank you, minding her manners of course, and bade the creature adieu.

After her meal the previous night, Sarah had great expectations for the honeyed slice of decadence placed before her now. For whatever reason, the quality of the food surprised her. Given her surroundings, she'd expected a more...simplified menu. But, as she sat there in a bronze wired chair in a velveteen dress surrounded by hand painted frescos eating a pastry so sweet and so mouthwatering it actually had her toes curling in her soft as down slippers, she really felt quite lavish. And here she'd told Jareth's father she didn't fancy herself a princess.

It was nearing 10 AM when she finally left her room, and she almost ducked back inside as she noticed a guard standing just beside her door.

Her eyes twitched as she spied on it. It hadn't reacted. Hadn't moved. Didn't even look to be breathing. With her posture hunched over as if that actually made her less conspicuous, she peered around the hallway. Of course, there wouldn't be such things as security cameras here, but she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

After a few seconds of lingering scrutiny, she finally straightened and confronted the guard. Lochlan had told her they would be stationed in her wing now, so she figured she ought to introduce herself.

It wore the same kind of armor as the first guard she'd seen: plated, though rough and beige like stone rather than metal. That seemed odd. And it looked quite heavy too.

"Um...good morning?" she said, skeptically. She'd been standing there staring it up and down for a few seconds now and still there was no reaction from it. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to spy between the slits in its visor.

The guard said nothing. Sarah took a step closer.

"Um, hello? Can you hear me?"

She stood up on her toes and waved a hand in front of its face, but still nothing. Feeling like an idiot, Sarah wondered if it was a prop after all.

"What, are you asleep in there?" she asked, impatiently, and reached out to flip up his visor —it was an action she immediately regretted.

Sarah gasped, frightfully, and lurched away from it.

Gravity closed the visor all on its own, and Sarah stood there, dumbstruck, with a pounding heart, as she gaped at it.

"Oh. Um...okay then," she said, with averted eyes, and very quickly ran away

* * *

Sarah shook her head as she tried to clear her mind of that horrendous visage, but it was a failing effort. As promised, there were guards placed at the ends of each hall, and every time she passed one a violent chill would shoot straight down her spine. Just horrible, she kept thinking. *shudder*

Unfortunately, she was so distracted she forgot to track where she was going and ended up lost almost immediately. She had no idea where she was within the castle, what floor she was on or what direction she faced. There were no windows, no definitive markers at all.

Her footsteps echoed as the ceilings became taller and, as she kept on pushing forward, she eventually realized that even the petrified guards had left her.

She walked for a long while, aimlessly and without caution. Her adventure was turning out to be exceedingly dull, so whatever bit of self-awareness she'd started out with was now fading. Many of the rooms were empty. Those that did have furniture were all covered in sheets and, as her enthusiasm became weaker and weaker, she wondered if there was anything worth seeing at all.

The Underground was such a marvelous place. Her memories of the city below were lively, cantankerous, and astounding. So where was all the magic? Where were the goblins? Where was anything for that matter?

Finally, after the sound of the hundredth door closing shut, she paused to let herself frown. This was boring. If nothing else, she expected herself to be occupied. There may not be many, but there _were_ other people living here, yet she had not crossed paths with a single one. Where the hell were they? Where the hell was she? Where the hell was Jareth or Lochlan or those creepy ass guards who were supposed to be looking out for her? This lack of heading was thoroughly...deflating.

She sighed heavily as she moved on, walking with a lowered head as she haphazardly mused about the pros falling off a cliff.

 _Maybe I should find a way outside.._.she thought to herself. _Explore the city? Find my friends? Gosh, it's been a while…_

Memories of her friends had her feeling guilty as she counted back the number of weeks, months actually, it'd been since she'd last seen them.

She'd just been so busy. Between school and work and the hospital...there was just too much going on after her father's diagnosis…

She'd go looking for them soon, she told herself. As soon as she found the right door anyway…

Sarah's head lifted as she realized she'd entered a new part of the castle. It was better decorated here, the lighting brighter, and the furniture kept fresh and unveiled. This must be a wing regularly inhabited, she determined, and stoked life back into a tiny spark of intrigue.

This round, she took her time in choosing a door, trying to make a pathetic little game out of it. None of them particularly stood out to her, until she found one that was already opened.

The level of excitement she felt at the sight of a half-open door was so asinine she actually had to stop and laugh at herself.

 _But a door that's open means someone has opened it!_ she argued to herself. _Yeah, or they just forgot to close it when they left…_ Dear lord, save her; she was already talking to herself.

She pressed open the door with the tips of her fingers, allowing the steady creak of its hinges to provide a signal for her arrival, and peered around it curiously.

There was no one there, but that no longer mattered. She lowered her hand from the door and stepped across the threshold, her eyes glued to the sight before her.

The inside of the room was sparse, featuring nothing but a chandelier overhead, and a small, round table in the center. It was what was on top of the table that caught her attention.

Cards. It was a house of cards. A house of cards built so high and composed of such abstracted forms that there was no way in hell it was physically possible. It looked like a sculpture. Like the skeletal remains of a Rorschach once come to life. She took careful steps around it as she stared, as she gawked really, at the defiance of physics flaunted before her. It climbed so high it nearly touched the chandelier, and spanned outward in geometric flourishes that were so dazzling they were almost crystalline. She felt a tickle in her fingers to reach out and touch it, but she didn't dare, her urge to destroy almost as strong as her urge to admire.

She ceased her pacing and stood at the edge of the table, her head tilted back as she continued to stare.

"Find something interesting?"

A voice beside her ear had her jumping clear out of her skin and sent her lurching forward. Luckily she caught herself before clutching the table, but her shrill _eep!_ carried enough reverberance to send a tremor through the structure all on its own. The cards quaked, then settled.

Sarah placed a hand to her heart and huffed as she glared over at Jareth.

"What the hell, man?" she asked, impulsively, her chest huffing and puffing as she regained her composure. Jareth grinned, his eyes slanted from his peripheral, as he quietly laughed to himself before straightening.

He took a step away from her, moved behind her, and the familiar scent that followed after him made her aware of just how close he'd been. She could feel the discomforting brush of his cape against her back as he moved, and she stood a little straighter.

He walked away from her to circle around the table. Sarah trained her eyes on him warily.

"Were you trying to kill me just now?" she asked. She sounded defensive but really she was just fighting for bearings. For whatever queer reason, her lips were dry and she had a very inconvenient palpitation in her heart.

Jareth stopped, quirked a brow, and shrugged.

"Not particularly."

Sarah didn't respond. At least not right away. Instead her gaze swept over him, searching for clues to his temper. She didn't want to admit it, but the way the maids had spoken of him earlier had her feeling suddenly vulnerable. It was a shame, then, that what she observed had nothing at all to do with self-preservation.

He was dressed very conservatively: sporting a dark, plated coat and heavy layered cape. It reminded her of when they'd first met, of that glittering, much too flattering regalia that she was surprised to have committed to memory with such _vivid_ clarity.

He wore thick leather gloves, which she spied on as he lightly trailed a hand along the rim of the table while he walked. That hand led to an arm, which connected to a spauldered shoulder, which directed her eye to the collar of his jacket and the way it hugged the column of his throat—a detail she could not help but regard, poignantly, as his head tilted back to stare up, with complete nonchalance, at the display.

Sarah rolled her lower lip over her teeth as she glanced away. Dammit. He'd caught her off guard.

"Well...please don't sneak up on me like that," she said, sternly. One of Jareth's eyebrows arched in derision and he glanced over at her. She was lucky she kept her eyes on the cards. "I almost knocked this thing over," she added, and gestured at the delicate composition with a very indelicate scowl. Jareth felt the corners of his mouth twitching.

"And?"

"And...that'd be a shame?"

She crossed her arms. He huffed. She'd gone through a dramatic change in the split second since he'd made himself known. Her eyes had been so wide. Now they were cutting little things.

"Would it?" he asked, vacantly.

"Yeah...I mean, I'm sure it took a while to make. Whoever built it would probably be upset if some idiot tripped and knocked it all down."

She kept her eyes to the side and waved a hand around as she spoke. Her manner was flustered, which explained the slight color in her cheeks. He smiled as he regarded her. My, what a petulant thing she still was.

" _Some idiot_?" he repeated, with amusement. "Being awfully presumptuous, aren't you?" He stopped pacing to stand directly across from her and looked down at the table. " _Upset_ is a bit excessive; I'd just start over again."

Sarah looked over reflexively.

"What? You mean _you_ made this?" she asked, with a tone that he was apparently offended by. He huffed through his nose again and looked away.

"As opposed to whomever else you've seen loitering these halls?" he retorted, sarcastically, like he somehow knew she'd been lost and alone for the last three hours. Her brow tightened as she watched him through the negative space between the cards.

"Sorry. I just meant...it's really impressive, is all," she muttered, her eyes darting uncomfortably. Now that she had recovered from her startle, she was starting to wonder what he was doing here in the first place. If maybe she'd unwittingly wandered into the lion's den-

"...Not really."

She peered up and spied on him through the cards again, stealing glimpses of fragmented features: a crease at the corner of his eye, the curve of a partial upper lip, a shadow cast by the hair that fell over one shoulder. His tone had softened a notch. Sounded distracted, which matched the look she saw in a displaced, perfectly framed eye. He was staring down, fingering through a few spare cards that littered the table. Her brow knitted even more as she observed him, as she wondered what in the hell those women were talking about.

"So...how long did it take?" she asked. Jareth shrugged.

"A few days. I don't keep track."

"A few days?" Sarah repeated, her brow rising. "You...have a lot of patience." She saw the corner of his mouth twitch under the apex of an ace and a jack.

"Not really. Just a lot of free time."

She watched silently as the low tenor of his voice calmed her. Being so suddenly near him had put her on edge on an instinctual level, and it was something that she was sure put her at a disadvantage. This was confirmed by the way she jumped when he casually reached out, flicked a card, and sent the entire thing tumbling down between them.

Cards fell like a tidal wave, fanning out and flying off the table and onto the floor. Sarah took a step back, aghast, and stared across the table at Jareth with a defensive arm raised. He looked amused, pleased even, and stared out at the heap of cards as they mounted in the space between them.

"Whoa. Why did you do that?" she asked. There was trace panic in her voice, amplified by surprise. Jareth peered over at her innocently.

"Do what?" he asked. Sarah's brow knitted.

"You ruined it."

"Did I?"

Sarah drew back guardedly. She got the feeling he was toying with her, but his ambiguous tone made him impossible to dissect. She merely watched as he glanced away and started gathering cards.

"...You just said that took you days to make. Why the heck did you break it?" she asked. Her eyes lowered to his hands, curious of the way he was making a neat little pile for himself.

"Its purpose is in its process," Jareth said, and pulled forth two cards from his deck to stand them in an arch. "It is simply...a means to pass the time. Once it is finished, as pretty as it might be, it becomes entirely useless."

Several more arches joined the first, and next he gave them roofs.

"...I...disagree." Sarah said, slowly, as she herself became distracted by the quiet repetition of his movements. "The process might end but the product can still be admired. Its purpose becomes to validate the time and effort spent to create it. It's function is to stimulate the eye of the beholder."

Jareth paused and looked up from under his bangs.

"You speak as if it were a work of art."

"Wasn't it?"

He grinned as his eyes lowered, concealing the laughter that lingered there.

"To some, it would seem."

Another silence followed that reply. Sarah wasn't quite sure how to navigate it.

"...What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" He paused again and made an appeasing gesture with his hands. "I'm starting again."

Sarah, ever the skeptic, simply refused the urge to let down her guard. He seemed docile, but the feeling of his fist in the back of her hair and his hands holding her jaw shut were still fresh in her mind. The memory of that razor sharp intensity she'd seen in his eyes haunted her. Perhaps she was getting such dangerous vibes now precisely _because_ he was docile. Or...maybe...she was just feeling _nervous_ again.

Denying the thought as soon as it emerged, Sarah forced herself to focus on something else and reached down to pull back some cards.

She joined him silently, the only sound shared being the occasional scrape of cardstock against the smooth, wooden tabletop. She tried her best to build her own, but was failing miserably. She was more focused on him and the way he was not focused on her at all. She thought it a little childish, actually, the way he looked so enamored with his toy. Then, finally, after what felt like an achingly, frustratingly long while, she broke through the disquiet.

"So...this is a hobby then?" she asked. Awkwardness reverberated back to her and she internally cringed at how bad she was at initiating small talk. "Is this how you spend your days?"

"Some of them.''

Sarah's brow twitched at such a lackadaisical response, but her lowered eyes were primarily trained on the task at hand. So far she had three little triangles —excluding the ten that had fallen. Dammit. This was harder than it looked.

"Seems a little...mind numbing," she mumbled.

"It is."

There was something catching lining his tone. It was like she could hear him smiling. She looked up at him, but whatever curiosity she brought with her failed in comparison to the near outrage that flared in reaction to what greeted her.

His quaint little _castle_ was already up to his freaking nose!

"Hey how- how did you build that so quickly?" she asked, then narrowed her eyes. "You're using magic, aren't you?"

Jareth, without sparing her a second glance, carried on unhindered.

"Am I?"

Sarah pursed her lips.

"Those structures before weren't physically possible," she said, watching as he casually shrugged.

"Well, you are the expert on such things." He waited a beat for her retort, but when none came he finally stopped what he was doing and glanced over at her. She was looking very stoic, doing her best to hold back a glare. Apparently, his condescending tone had been less than appreciated. Jareth's grin creeped. "Are you frustrated?" he asked, shooting a mocking eye down at her pathetic trio of cards and back up again. She did not respond. "Would you like some help?"

The obstinance conveyed by her silence alone was enough to make him laugh, though he did well to remain tactful. Petulant _and_ prideful, eh? He was starting to remember why he'd had so much fun with her back then.

Testing her bravado, Jareth placed his remaining cards down on the table and slowly, leisurely, approached her.

Sarah stood rigid as the sound of his footsteps brought him closer to her, and she kept her eyes strictly on his. He was up to something. She could sense it. She just wasn't sure if backing away or standing her ground would be the better choice.

A shiver ran up her spine when he placed a hand beside hers flat on the table, and then angled the rest of his body to stand closely behind hers. She could feel the sleeve of his coat brush against her arm, feel the cold metal of his armor lightly press against her spine, and the tension that poised in the millimeter of space between his index finger and her pinky she thought was really quite _unnecessary_. He leaned down, just enough to bring his face level with hers, and her jaw clenched as the warmth of his breath sent goosebumps down the length of her neck.

He smelled like wine and the woods: fresh, crisp, _decadent_.

She wasn't mentally prepared when he reached around her with the other arm and then boldly clasped both her hands in front of her.

"Hey. What are you-"

"Relax," he purred, or at least that's how the sound registered so low and so close to her ear. She licked her lips and stared down at their hands, remarking, very inappropriately, just how much larger his were than hers. She wasn't sure what to do, but her hands had fallen limp in his grasp so she let them be. He placed them flat against the table, then laid his directly over them.

A tiny flare of alarm accompanied the tingle that vibrated through her fingers, a sensation of static that seemed to be drawing their hands together, and she knew that feeling was _magic_.

When Jareth lifted his hands, hers came with them. When his fingers flexed, so did hers, and she immediately realized he was puppeting them.

She did not protest. She did not say anything at all. She was too on edge. Too invested in whatever happened next.

With their hands moving as one, he used hers to pluck a pair of cards and carefully steepled them atop the others. Wordlessly, he repeated the action, over and over, and all the while she was more focused on the frequent pressure of his fingertips pressing against hers, and the feeling of both the coolness of his gloves and the warmth of his skin that radiated behind them as they teasingly hovered over the back of her hands.

"See? Easy," he said, his voice deceptively smooth. Sarah gulped. Surely she was the only one feeling this tension...right? Surely she was just being an idiot. Still, it was tantalizing. His proximity alone was tantalizing. She never in all her years away actually envisioned being so close to him like this, having his lips a mere hair's breadth from her cheek, having his eyes, with those long fanning lashes, idling so dangerously close to her peripheral...

"You're definitely using magic," she said, a little unevenly, as she berated her, apparently, extremely sexually frustrated self. She could feel her pulse quickening with a rise of anxiety and prayed to God he did not sense it as well.

"On you maybe. Not the cards."

He lifted their hands higher as tiers were added, but her steadily growing card tower was now the last thing on her mind. She was starting to feel flushed. Her dress was made of velvet, was heavy, was the thing she blamed her rising bodily temperature on. It didn't help that he was practically engulfing her. He was wide in the shoulders, his cape draping over them both as his arms lined the contour of her own.

"So um...did you sleep well?" Sarah asked, which was perhaps the stupid thing she'd said yet. Fucking hell. She really needed to learn better ice breakers. Thankfully, Jareth did not perceive her question to be as embarrassing as she did. His voice vibrated against her ear as he said,

"No."

"Oh...Sorry." and now she was back to feeling awkward. Her eyes darted around but refused to spy on him. He seemed content. Focused. She ignored the urge to turn her head and smell him.

"It's par for the course," Jareth said, which effectively pulled her away from the clutches of her treacherous libido. She blinked repeatedly and scowled. _Huh? What the heck does that mean?_ she wondered.

"This place...is a little strange," she carried on, changing directions. "I was expecting more goblins."

"They mostly stay in the lower levels," Jareth replied.

"Why?"

"Too many stairs."

She took that as a joke and pursed her lips in a smirk. For as tense as she was feeling, there was something oddly easy about the moment, about the buffer their mindless activity provided. She didn't feel the compulsion to run like she thought she would. At least...not because _he_ was the danger. And all the while she was only becoming more and more aware of the way his chest pressed flush against her back.

"Can um... can I...ask you a question, Jareth?" Her request was tentative and it made him grin. Though why he found such a show of bashfulness genuinely _cute_ , he wasn't sure.

The corner of his mouth curled on one side as he replied, "Only one?"

Sarah's eyes lowered to the table, pausing as she contemplated. He was teasing her, but she wasn't feeling quite so playful.

"Why...did you give Hoggle your name?"

There was a pause. A noticeable one. Something made manifest in the additional second that passed before releasing the next steeple. It was enough to give Sarah the confidence to peer over at him. But, unfortunately, he'd leaned back just out of sight as she did so.

"That's the one you want to ask? Surely there are more pertinent things on your mind," he said, with a lighthearted tone that was also curiously slack. Sarah frowned in reaction to it.

"There aren't."

For a moment she wondered if he would answer her, wondered if he would deflect once more with something cavalier and entirely transparent. She was expecting it, honestly, which was why she was surprised by what he said next.

"Can you not guess it yourself?" he asked, pressing down on her fingers to pull back a card sharply across the table. "I gave it to him so that he would give it to you."

"Why?" From the readiness of her response, she thought maybe she'd come off too eager. She bit her lip and reigned it in. "I know how important your names are. How closely guarded they're supposed to be. So... it's been bugging me. I just don't understand why you would…"

"Give it to a total stranger?"

"...Yeah."

She was feeling a little deflated, and maybe it was something Jareth picked up on. He seemed to lightly squeeze her hands as he sighed through his nose.

"It's been...a long time since I've heard anyone speak it. Someone other than Lochlan, that is," he said, and distracted them both by mindlessly laying out the cards before them. "Would you call me a cad if I said all I wanted was to hear someone else say it?" Sarah furrowed her brow and tried to turn towards him, but before she could do so he carried on with a self-deprecating huff. "So, how ironic was it when, for the first time in over a thousand years, I offered it to someone who showed not even the slightest interest in using it?" There was amusement in those words, as bitter as they were. Sarah wasn't sure what to say. She felt her hair shift as he subtly shook his head. "Although… I suppose I should be glad I chose not to wipe your mind of it. A mere five years later and here you are again, and here I've heard you say it thrice now. And to think, the first was following a marriage proposal. Astounding."

He sounded bewildered by the fact but it was a feeling Sarah did not at all reflect. She was still caught up on how honest he'd just been. Shockingly sincere to the point where the tension she once felt towards him now drained from her shoulders entirely. He really meant that, didn't he? It meant so much to him that he was keeping count of every instance. It was disillusioning and...sad.

She tried to flex her hands but they were slaves to his whim. If he sensed her struggle, he ignored it. Instead she shifted her feet, inadvertently pressing herself back against him more firmly. The feeling sparked something in her. Something severe. It seemed the tension hadn't left at all. It'd merely been biding it's time.

She gulped and tried her best to spy on him without having to turn. She saw nothing but a blur, so she focused on their hands instead. He was lifting hers again, about to place the pinnacle atop her castle.

"Oh," she said, and then felt something daring take hold. "Well...I guess I should feel flattered then. Was it everything you were hoping for? … _Jareth_?"

The cards fell from her grasp as she spoke his name, as the sound, low and sweet, rolled seductively off her tongue. The edge of the cards clicked together atop the structure and the sound of their contact in that momentary pause felt deafening. Sarah felt her heart thumping into her ears as she waited for his response.

He did not say anything. Nothing at all. And she worried that maybe she'd been too audacious. Maybe she'd read the atmosphere wrong. He placed her hands down on the table, and then she felt the dissolution of the magic that bound them. She was about to frown when his hands pulled away, but instead sucked in her breath when they pressed firmly against her wrists and slowly dragged up the length of her arms.

Something in the room changed: a static presence that had been lurking, quietly charging the air, now sparked. Sarah recognized it immediately, but regret was slow to follow.

"Hm...how brazen of you."

Sarah stood stock still, her breath hitching in her throat at the salacious provocation nuanced in those words. His tone had dropped, and her face grew hot as it ignited something invigorating within her. Oh shit. She wasn't expecting this. Wasn't expecting her true colors to show through nor him to be so easily triggered by them. She thought maybe he was just testing her, or worse -teasing. But his hands continued to move, catching on the fabric of her dress and bunching up her sleeves as he gripped her with unspoken intention. She had no idea what he was doing, or how she would respond, but by the time he reached her biceps the faint rise and fall of her chest had quickened its pace.

She felt cornered. Caged. …Captivated.

His hands encircled her arms and squeezed, just slightly, and she knew from the tingle in her cheek that his face hovered achingly close to hers. She licked her lips, the sudden intensity of the moment about to betray her. She turned her head fractionally, just enough to catch his gaze. When their eyes locked she saw his had sharpened, turned dark, and were now intensely framed by smokey blue shadow.

"Say it again," he dared her, wickedly, a challenge rising along with the heated air between them. Sarah was entranced by it, by him, by the dangerous look in his eye that made the game so thrilling.

It was sheer instinct that she turn her head even more, knowing exactly what it would mean. Her lips were already parted. Her eyes were just starting to close. She had no intention of saying his name -when a sudden and very jolting series of knocks came at the door behind them.

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

The sound was so jarring that, in addition to a very unladylike gasp, Sarah actually lurched forward into the table, sending her pretty little castle flying all over the room in an obnoxious flurry.

Jareth, however, stood completely motionless, keeping her caged and hidden behind his cape as the door creaked open.

"Jareth? Ah, there you are. Forgive me, I have to ask you something-"

Sarah recognized the voice as Lochlan's and froze. Completely ignoring what she had so obviously been about to do, she instead panicked over how the scene might be interpreted by Lochlan. Accurately, she admitted, but still. She stood as quiet as a mouse as she huddled into the cavern Jareth's arms provided, and saw his hands had turned to fists against the table top. Oh. Oops.

Jareth turned his head back sharply, carrying with him a seething glare that could all but kill.

" _What?"_

His voice was a bark. Was clipped and elevated and, if they had been aware of each other's presence, both Sarah and Lochlan would have shared an empathetic flinch. Lochlan paused in his stride, caught off guard by how dark his eyes had become.

"Are...you alright?" he asked, warily. Jareth, realizing his outburst, closed his eyes as he subdued the sensation.

"I'm fine," he said, bitingly, and cocked his head in an odd manner as the marks receded. Sarah stared up at him anxiously. What the heck was that? She'd caught his expression and it...it reminded her of when she'd slapped him. The way the markings around his eyes had flared just now was...alarming.

The sound of his gloves crinkling as his hands clenched distracted her, so she looked over at the table. He was definitely angry. Maybe she should make herself known...maybe she should just cower under the table.

"Right...do you need to go to the d-"

Before Lochlan could finish his sentence, Sarah felt the discretion of Jareth's arms leave her as he turned and angled himself back. He lowered his arm, which lowered his cape, which revealed the innocent ears Lochlan did not know we're listening.

Sarah and Lochlan each exchanged gapes, though he recovered much more readily.

"Oh. Sarah. So we meet again. I'm sorry, I didn't see you there." His smile stretched from ear to ear and was one hundred percent forced. Sarah stared at him skeptically for a moment, then turned the same expression up at Jareth as she stepped away from him.

"Um...hey."

Lochlan regarded the two of them closely. Jareth's eyes were still shadowed, but she looked okay. In fact, she looked a little flustered. _Hm? Ooh_. Maybe that was why Jareth was standing there ready to kill him.

"Forgive me...have I interrupted something?" he asked, impishly. Sarah's face flushed a bright red and she took several wide steps away from Jareth.

"What? Of course not," she said, defensively, with her nose turned high in the air. Lochlan's grin became authentic. He just couldn't help himself.

"Oh, good," he said, facetiously, and spared Jareth a shrewd eye. He hadn't settled yet...hm. Better play it safe than sorry. "But...actually, Sarah—" he said, turning his attention unto her. "—I have some business to discuss with Jareth. Would you mind excusing us for a moment?"

There was something far too perceptive in the way Lochlan was grinning and it made her want to walk up smack him. Although, in actuality, she knew she should probably be thanking him. God knew what was about to come over her just then and it was something she'd be better off without. For now at least.

She stood there dumbly for a moment and realized he was trying to kick her out. Oh? More secrets? Great. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms out in front of her.

"Sure. I'll just go back to wandering, I guess," she said, sardonically, and turned to Jareth. "Thanks for the help. I'll...see you later?" Boy that felt weird. Why the hell was she trying so hard? And why the hell was he not trying at all? She at the very least expected him to meet her half way with that one. But no, he only stood there and glowered. Sarah nodded to herself and looked away. "Okay, cool. Bye then."

She left very briskly after that and was even nice enough to close the door behind her. Jareth listened for the sound of her footsteps to recede before moving, before turning his glare in all its displeasure straight to Lochlan.

Lochlan's smile was as apologetic as he could manage.

"I _was_ interrupting something, wasn't I?" he asked, with a wince. Jareth huffed and turned away.

* * *

Sarah walked all the way to the end of the hall before sparing a thought as to where she was going. Not that it mattered. Still, she forced herself to stop and take a minute to think. Holy hell. What had gotten into her just now? Was she really just that turned on by him? Surely that wasn't healthy...surely she'd developed a complex from certain childhood traumas….

But what was a girl to do? His eyes were just so blue. His pupils so strange and beguiling. He was too fucking pretty and exotic and effortlessly imposing. The fact that she could now appreciate these traits about him properly as compared to her naivety from back then was both terrifying and exciting.

Was she being too easy? Should she be coming off as more...demure? Oppositional? But...but no! Why the hell should she?! They were getting married for Christ's sake! The _better_ they got along, the better her life would be. …right? Ugh. It hadn't even been a full 24 hours yet….

Now frustrated in numerous ways, Sarah shook her head clear of the frazzle and pressed onward. Right now, the farther away she got from _him_ the better.

She stalked the halls for a short while until her stomach revealed to her that it was lunchtime. The grumble in her gut mirrored that of her thoughts in its displeasure.

She stopped and looked around, as if there was any hope to orient herself, and, unsurprisingly, came up blank. It had to be getting close to noon by now. Not that there were any clocks around to help her. But, she was still in an upscale part of the castle so she had hope she might run into a maid or someone before long.

As she stared down one end of the hall and then the other, she remarked on the way sounds of utter nothingness seemed to echo like the shallow breaths of a very dreary cavern, and her hopes of being happened upon by anything other than her own disappointment dwindled.

_Sirene said if I was hungry to just summon a guard...hm…_

But how exactly was she supposed to do that? The things were totally unresponsive!

She turned around in a half circle with tightly pursed lips. _Even if you can't see them, they are always there..._

"Um...guard?"

She kept on turning, then startled back when a towering stone suit was suddenly standing in front of her.

"Oh. Okay. Guess that works."

She took a healthy step back from it and raked her eyes up and down. Just like before, it wasn't moving. Were these things...really alive?

"Um, hi there," she said, with a curt wave. It did not respond. "Do you uh...do you know how to get to the kitchen?" she asked and waited….and waited, but her answer was ongoing silence. Sarah bit the inside of her cheek, starting to feel a little frustrated. "I thought you were a guard? How the hell are you supposed to protect anything if you just stand there like a statue?" she asked, her voice raising and ending in a huff. She placed her hands on her hips and looked away. "Lord Leche said I could ask you for information or errands. I don't see how that's going to work if you won't respond."

She was full on pouting now, her lips twisted as she glared to the side. She didn't know what she was expecting, but the fact that she was effectively arguing with herself hadn't dawned on her yet.

"Are you even alive? Do something already!"

Exasperation got the better of her and apparently the statue as well. At her command the guard stood to attention, stomping a foot and the glaive it held to the ground in salute. The action caught her by surprise and she flinched. Oh shit. What?

Sarah waited for its next move but nothing happened. Her eyes scoured it fiercely, trying to figure out what had triggered it. Was it something she said? Why did it not respond to any of her other requests? That's when she realized she had not given it a request just now but a command. _Oh? Say your right words, is it?_

Feeling a little more confident, Sarah stood straighter as she addressed the suit.

"Take me to the kitchen," she said.

The guard placed a hand over its heart and bowed.

"As you command, Mistress."

It's voice was low, an unnatural baritone. Sarah took a precautionary step back as it moved away from the wall and began to walk down the hall.

So...that was it? Awesome. Better not fall behind.

The guard led her in silence, Sarah content to trail behind as she analyzed the steady precision of its gait. It glided completely silent, like air. Given its bulky composition, it didn't make sense. This thing must have done really well in finishing school.

It took her down several floors, through abandoned and inhabited wings alike. She tried her best to mentally map out the place, but knew she was going to need escorts like this for a long time to come. The scale of this castle was just plain gratuitous.

They were walking down a corridor, no different from any other, when a sudden clamor captured her attention.

It sounded like something heavy falling, a consecutive series of booms that were immediately accompanied by a fevered, feminine shriek. Sarah stopped on a dime as she turned sharply towards it.

"Gimble! You cretin! Ohhh I ought to kill you!" The same voice that shrieked was now screaming, though this time with outrage rather than fright. Sarah's brow drew tightly as she watched a door very close to her fly open and a snickering goblin dart, in a very satisfied panic, clear out of the room.

"Stop," Sarah called out to the guard, whom she'd noticed was still walking away from her. It halted in the middle of the hall. The goblin meanwhile had since vanished, laughing in wild mischief as it scurried down a different hallway.

"Urrghhhh."

With the door now open, it was easier to hear the woman inside groaning in frustration. And, if Sarah was recalling correctly, it was most definitely Greta.

"Greta are you alright? What happened?" —that sounded like June. Or maybe Arlyn. They were both so soft spoken it was hard to tell by voice alone.

Sarah, curious and honestly a little concerned for Greta's wellbeing after that loud fall, approached the room. Her efforts were impeded however when someone very aggressively slammed the door shut.

Sarah stood there for a moment debating her next move. She was hesitant to barge in on them, but it would be weird of her to eavesdrop when knocking on the door and saying "what happened? I heard a crash" was perfectly appropriate…

She decided to play it safe for the time being and pressed her back against a recess in the wall.

"That stupid Gimble! Ugh! He's always pulling at my skirts! The little pervert! I swear I hate all those goblins. All of them!" Greta shouted, her voice only slightly muffled through the wall. Sarah felt a grin curling in spite of herself.

She heard something scraping against the floor (a chair maybe?), probably whatever had been knocked over.

"Maybe if you stopped reacting so dramatically, he wouldn't tease you so much."

"He wouldn't tease me at all if he were dead...ugh, this thing is heavy. Arlyn, come help me with it, would you?"

"You know, jumping off the ladder wasn't very wise. Look at the scuffs on the floor. Now we have to polish those too."

"I suppose it's easy to be so critical when you're not having your rear pinched by two-foot-tall miscreants every damn day!"

Sarah had to raise a hand to her mouth to cover her chuckle. It took some effort to understand what Arlyn was saying through the thick stone, but Greta's outrage rang clear as day. At least she wasn't hurt. That was good.

"And where the hell did Talia go? Wasn't she supposed to be helping us today?"

"I think she said something about getting another bucket…"

"Oh?" Greta said, followed by the loud bellow of something being dropped on a table. "Fat chance of that. I bet she went off to get her own rear pinched."

"Greta—"

"Yes, I said it. And I'll say it again too. I'm getting sick of her sneaking off and leaving us to pick up her slack."

"I think you're just angry you fell off the ladder."

"Of course I'm angry. I landed on my ass!" Greta exclaimed. Arlyn did not respond so Greta carried on. "Maybe if Talia was here she could have caught me or, better yet, swatted him away before it even happened. But noooo, she has better knobs to polish. I'm going to petition Lord Leche to punish that Gimble. It's high time he was hung by his entrails."

Sarah wondered if Greta was serious or just being dramatic. She hoped the later. …but deep down knew it was probably the former.

"So it's true then?" Arlyn asked. There was a little pause, and then Sarah heard Greta huff.

"Huh? Is what true?"

"That Talia is sleeping with His Highness?"

Oh? Now things were getting good. Perhaps eavesdropping had been the better choice after all. Sarah stood to attention as she listened for Greta's reply.

"Sleeping with The Prince _? Pff_. In her dreams maybe," Greta said, rather obnoxiously, and with a laugh. Sarah scrunched her brow.

"But...you're right. She is always wandering off to clean on her own. And I've even seen her sneaking out of her room at night, too. And sometimes she has those bruises…"

"Yeah. And I know for a fact exactly who she gets them from, and I assure you it is not His Highness."

"Really?"

"Fen told me that Corin told him that he's seen a certain dark haired beauty sneaking around after hours with a certain redheaded domestic down by the kitchens. On _multiple_ occasions," Greta said, her voice lowered but not enough to be in any way called _hushed_.

"No...You mean Emet?" Arlyn asked, in disbelief.

"Mhmm."

"But...I could have sworn...from the way she acted this morning, that it was—"

"Yeah, don't let her fool you, Arlyn. Talia is full of shit."

Sarah's brow rose quite high at such off color language, as it seemed gossipy Greta had merely been showing her Sunday best towards her that morning. Getting a clandestine glimpse of their true selves, however, was very insightful.

"You and June haven't been around as long as the rest of us so I'm not surprised you don't know this but, despite what he is, she's been trying to snag His Highness's attention for years now—though I highly doubt she has _ever_ succeeded. You know he avoids us more than we do him after what happened with Avana, right?"

"Yes. I heard about that from Sirene."

"Exactly. So how the hell could she possibly be sleeping with him? I can't even remember the last time I've seen him let alone interacted. Probably never, actually."

Well that was weird, wasn't it? Sarah remembered hearing the name Avana yesterday...what the hell was going on there? Oh, how the mysteries multiplied.

"You know what I think?" Greta went on. "I think Talia had a bit of ambition when accepting this post. She came straight from a brothel, you know. Probably thought this was her best shot to woo a prince. And look at her now, two decades later and she's hiding in closets with a kitchen boy, and he's suddenly engaged to a human."

Sarah's ears twitched at the reference and she focused more intently. So the conversation was shifting to her now? Good.

"That would explain why she's so upset...it seemed a little strange, really. She's being so mean to Mistress. But now I'm confused... I don't understand why she would want to be with him."

"I know. Me neither. Maybe that's why they chose her though. Odd tastes that one has."

And now Sarah was confused. What in the actual hell were they talking about? First she'd thought they were all sleeping with him, then she thought maybe he was abusing them, and now she got the impression they wouldn't touch each other with a ten foot pole —save Talia at least. While it wasn't like she _wanted_ them to be floozing around, this just didn't make any sense. Jareth was a prince. The only prince. He was handsome, and by Lochlan's account _powerful._ He was a researcher which implied that he was smart, and she knew first hand he could be deviously charming so…what?

"I hope she doesn't get herself in trouble... especially now that Mistress has arrived. Madam asked us to look out for her, after all."

"Yeah I wouldn't worry about Talia. She looks mean but that's about it. Besides, she's got Emet to take out her frustrations on…" and her voice trailed of distractedly.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Arlyn asked.

"Yeah. Just sore. I'll probably have a big ol' bruise by the morning."

"Hm...speaking of, do you think we should warn the new mistress about the goblin's pranks? I'm not sure a human would survive some of their more clever ones."

"If she's really a runner then I'm sure she can handle herself. She hasn't seemed particularly phased by any of this, so…"

"Yeah. It's surprising. Do you think she knows?"

 _Knows?_ Sarah wondered. _Know what?_

"I don't know. It'd be very strange either way."

"I still can't believe they're marrying. I never thought he'd be allowed to."

_Allowed?_

"Well, he is still our prince. Someone has to propagate the gene pool."

"But with a human? That just seems so...unwise." There was a pause among the women as Sarah did her best to dissect their dialogue. Hopefully one of them said something a bit more concrete. Her imagination was running wild. "I feel bad for her, honestly," Arlyn said. Sarah frowned.

"I know. So do I."

Sarah's head cocked at the strange turn of their conversation. Why the hell would they feel bad for her? Wasn't marrying a prince a thing of envy? Did Jareth have some off-putting trait she had yet to encounter? Did it have something to do with whatever he did to _displease_ his father? The vines of conspiracy were spreading like weeds through her mind.

"But Lord Leche seems happy. I suppose we should just trust him?" Arlyn asked.

"What else can we do? She's already here, and from what I gather they're already pledged. I just hope her kind is more durable than we've heard."

"Hm...she seems nice. I felt bad that we had to leave because of Talia this morning. She must be so lonely. I wonder what she's even doing right now..."

"I don't know...hopefully she's not lost though. What if she bumped into him? _Eek_. Poor thing will probably get eaten." _Eaten?_ Sarah's inner voice repeated. Surely that was hyperbole. But even still, what the hell? None of her encounters with Jareth painted him anything even remotely _that bad_. A little trigger happy, maybe. But certainly not... _monstrous_. "Speaking of food," Greta continued. "I believe it's about time for our break. Let's get some lunch. We can polish the floors after."

Sarah heard footsteps after that and realized they were about to exit the room. In a panic, she held her breath and flattened herself against the wall as best as she could. She heard the door open, and the sound of their shoes scraping against the floor tiles as they entered the hall.

"Where do you want to break today?"

"I don't care. Wherever."

One of them took a few steps forward, enough so that Sarah could glimpse that it was Greta. She had her hands on her hips and was staring out at the wall in front of her. Sarah prayed she did not look back in her direction.

"Hey Seni," she said, and between a blink another guard instantly appeared. Sarah furrowed her brow. "Tell Cedric to have two meal trays sent to the botanical parlor on the seventh floor," she said, very assertively. The guard placed a hand over its heart and bowed it's head.

"As you command, My Lady."

"Thank you."

Greta turned, thankfully in the opposite direction from Sarah, and smiled at Arlyn (who was still standing out of sight).

"Let's go. I hear we're having duck confit today."

"Ooh, with the little pickled raisins?"

"Well there better be."

Their conversation faded as they walked away, and Sarah let out a long sigh of relief when they were both finally out of sight. That was a close one. Thank God the botanical parlor wasn't to the right. How mortifying would that have been?

She slouched against the wall as she relaxed, mulling over everything she'd just heard. It seemed like the people here were more than deferential, and certainly more than cautious of Jareth. They were down right aversive. Was it because of the _temper_ Lochlan had warned her about? The _messes_ he made? She didn't get any manic vibes from him in the card room earlier and, unless she just had some dangerously low standards, the way he'd manhandled her when she'd first arrived was certainly irritating but not exactly unmanageable. Not that those were reliable enough indications. Regardless...things weren't adding up. We're there two of him running around?

Plagued by contemplation, she kept her head lowered as she went back to her guard still idling in the middle of the adjacent hall. She had no idea what _duck confit_ was, but the mere mention of food in any capacity was enough to set her priorities straight.

 _To the kitchens!_ her heart beaconed. And so she was off.

By command the guard escorted her the remaining distance which, thankfully, wasn't very far. It brought her to a tall hallway, the end of which was marked by a large set of doors. It stopped at the mouth of the hall and stood straight against the wall.

"You have arrived," it said, and gestured towards the doors about 30 feet in front of them. Sarah, still wondering how much sentience was truly behind that face shield, pursed her lips before responding.

"Thank you," she said, but received nothing in response. In fact, it had frozen in its position, arm still extended and head still lowered. Sarah waved a hand in front of it. Nothing. Geez. Thing was like the goddamn tin man.

With a long breath, she dismissed the contraption and turned away from it. Welp, there went her hopes of acquiring a conversation companion to fill out her days. These things were barely robotic. She'd get more stimulation of out a toaster.

With a shake of the head, she headed towards the doors. It would probably have been easier to just go back to her room and pull the rope, but she was still exploring. And besides, now she wanted to get a look at this redhead.

A rumble and tumble could be heard the closer she came to the doors. The clanging of pots and pans, a few harsh hollers, and what sounded like running water. She paused as she reached out for the handle, just now realizing that it was lunchtime which meant they were probably busy…

Thankfully the door was opened for her by a very flustered looking goblin.

It bounced back after seeing her, having nearly ran her down as it opened the door.

"Sorry lady. Didn't see ya there," the goblin said, rubbing the back of its head.

"Oh. It's okay. I didn't mean to be in the way."

The sound of her voice, unfamiliar to the kitchen staff, was enough to immediately draw the attention of the entire room. The energy of the kitchen, once positively bustling, came to a screeching halt as fae and goblin alike stopped what they were doing and turned to look over at her.

Sarah stood on the threshold, her posture turning nervous as all twenty+ sets of eyes fell on her.

"Um...hello there."

She wiggled her fingers in a nervous wave, but her only response were several furrowing brows. Sarah licked her lips and teetered on her heels.

"What's going on? Why have you all stopped working?" A man emerged from a room adjacent the kitchen with a towel gripped tightly in his hand. He looked a little worse for wear, his black hair falling messily about his face and a sheen glistening his darkly tanned skin. He wore a starched white chef's coat and, from the very irritated look on his face, Sarah gathered that he was the boss.

The man stopped in the center of the room, placed his hands on his hips, and turned to look straight at her.

Sarah stared like a deer in headlights. Oh God. Was she about to get screamed at?

The man's eyes locked with hers and, just when Sarah expected the worst, his expression did a complete 180.

A smile stretched widely across his face, and the aura of ire that had just been weighing the room immediately vanished. His posture relaxed, and he cocked his head a little.

"Well hello miss. Forgive me, I didn't notice you there." The artificial cheer in his voice was an equal contender against Lochlan's. Sarah took half a step back. The rest of them were still just staring at her.

"Um...hi. It's okay. I didn't mean to intrude."

The man draped his towel over one shoulder and took a step towards her.

"Intrude? Nonsense. We are here to serve. Please, do come in, my lady," he said, eagerly ushering her in. Sarah hesitated. 

In the end, her stomach won. The scent of duck confetti or whatever was just too much to resist. She stepped into the room and quickly glanced around.

To the left were the sinks. To the right, a pantry. On the far wall across from her were a series of grills and ovens. A table on the far right served as a prepping station, and directly in front of her, behind the angry man, was a long, rough looking dining table scattered with culinary odds and ends.

The man, still grinning, bowed his head as he took her hand and kissed it.

"I hope you'll pardon my outburst just now. The atmosphere gets a bit hectic at meal times," he said, his voice now quite soft. Sarah smiled politely as she pulled her hand away.

"It's fine. Really."

"I've not seen you before, might you by chance be our mysterious new mistress?" he asked. Sarah's eyes darted around the people behind him. A few of them shared curious glances. Apparently everyone was hanging on her answer.

"Um...yeah. You may call me...Miss Williams, if you'd like."

"Thank you," the man said, smiling as he straightened. He ran a hand through his curled hair and then gave a grand gesture about the room. "I am Cedric, the head chef here at Faengsel. These here are my staff. Welcome to the kitchens, Mistress Williams."

Seeing the way Cedric was bowing, the rest of the staff did the same. Sarah endured by standing stiffly.

Cedric straightened once again and glanced back at the workers.

"Well? I doubt she appreciates your gawking. Get back to work," he said, utilizing that same striking tone that had even Sarah cringing a little, but by the time he looked back it was like the smile had never left. Geez. How stressful. "While we are undoubtedly pleased by your visit, I must say I am surprised. How may we help you, Mistress?" he asked. Sarah's eyes darted, unsure of what to make of this guy. He was tall, broadly built, such physique only emphasized by the way he had his sleeves rolled up to the elbow and the first two buttons undone on his coat. Granted, with all the ovens going it was incredibly hot. But still. Given his dark complexion and oddly white smile, he had a whole "week in Barcelona" vibe going on that didn't quite jibe with their surroundings.

"I uh...was wondering if I could get something for lunch," she said, with her eyes averted. Cedric's smile renewed and he turned and gestured towards the room.

"Well, I'd say you've come to the perfect place then," he said, cheerfully, and placed a genteel hand on her back as he urged her forward. He directed her to a chair at the table in front of them, and then snapped his fingers impatiently. "What may we prepare for you? Are you feeling hors d'oeuvres or an entrée? Would you like something to drink?"

"Um, anything is fine. Whatever you have ready," she said, politely.

"How considerate of you. Very well."

Cedric stood beside her with a hand gripping the back of her chair. Sarah thought his proximity to be a little close, but he was more occupied with directing the staff around the kitchen.

"Prepare our Mistress the confit. Bring out the antipasto while she waits."

Sarah fiddled her hands in her lap as she awkwardly wondered what the heck antipasto was and whether or not it would be something she would like. She was usually a burger and fries kind of girl...she hoped her vulgar palate wouldn't offend them...maybe she should have just spoken her mind.

"Would you like a spirit, Mistress?" Cedric asked. Sarah looked up at him reflexively.

"A what?"

He laughed, but not at her, and she too pretended that was a joke. She looked away with a strained smile.

"Water is fine," she said, wanting to keep things easy. Cedric nodded and snapped his fingers again. A moment later, goblins were laying out a place setting in front of her. One brought out her starter while another poured her drink. "Thank you," she said, and took dainty sips.

"Do you have any preferences for the menu, Mistress? Any allergens I should know about?"

Sarah set her cup down and looked up at him again.

"Not really. My experience with food is limited, so I'm looking forward to trying whatever this world has to offer."

A little spark lit up Cedric's eyes and he gave in to take the seat next to her.

"Now that's what I like to hear," he said, with genuine excitement. It made Sarah smile, her nerves starting to fade as she decided he might actually be friendly. "I admit, I was a little nervous this morning when I heard you hail from the above. Was breakfast to your tastes?" he asked. Sarah blinked. She hadn't realized that tart had been designed especially for her.

"It was. I thought it was delicious, actually. I appreciate your consideration." He looked pleased by her response, so she glanced away to inspect this antipasto business. It looked like a pile of random bits: torn chunks of cured meats, cheese, what she assumed were a variety of beans, and some greens to tie it all together. It smelled like vinegar, and with that did she realize this was just like that weird Italian salad Karen always ordered from the pizza place. Huh.

"I'm glad to hear that. I've studied Aboveground cuisine, but that was some time ago now. I've no idea how it's changed over the last century."

"I don't think you need to worry about that. Everything I've eaten since coming here has been to die for," she said, trying to eat as gracefully as possible while he watched her.

"You flatter us, Mistress," he said, placing a hand to his heart. Sarah covered her mouth with her knuckles as she chewed, and then got another drink.

There was a break in the conversation, so Sarah took the opportunity to spy on the room. The staff were mostly goblins, dwarves specifically, and the few fae she saw were all brunettes. Hm. Guess she'd have to meet Emet another day.

While she was distracted, a goblin came to bring out her main dish. As the waft of freshly baked meat filled her nose, she looked down at her plate with widened eyes.

It was a meal alright. A big fat golden leg of poultry, still sizzling and dripping with brine, crafted atop a nest of sautéed green beans and creamed squash, with decorative accents of thyme and bay leaves, and what she assumed were those pickled raisins that Arlyn had been so excited about. It looked way too fancy to be eaten. But oh, how her mouth watered.

"Wow. This is lunch?" she asked, bemused. Cedric smiled widely.

"Indeed. This time we've brined the meat in a garlic and juniper sauce. Please, let me know how it tastes."

There was a very eager tension about him that bordered on unsettling as he stared at her. He _really_ wanted her to try it, and she sat there wondering if she really should. Then she reminded herself that he was the head chef. It made sense that he would be passionate about the quality of his food.

Humoring him, she looked away and tried a bite.

"Oh...oh wow," she said, mumbling on a mouthful in a moment of surprise. She covered her mouth as she swallowed. "That's fantastic." She turned and gave him a very serious eye. "I don't think I've ever had duck before. It's like butter." She turned back to her meal and dug in, manners be damned. Cedric smiled from ear to ear.

"I'm pleased to hear that. I'll make a note of it for future."

Sarah ate the rest of her meal heartily, nearly clearing her plate clean. Cedric watched her the entire time and, despite knowing he was probably deriving some sense of perverted gratification from it, did not feel any shame in allowing it. He deserved it for making such a great meal. God, she was already thinking about dinner.

"Thank you for this. It was delicious," Sarah said, sitting back as the kitchen hands cleared the table.

"Any time, Miss Williams. We here in the kitchens appreciate a strong appetite," Cedric replied.

With the table cleared, Sarah looked around. The fervor had died down. There was less cooking and more ushering, goblins coming and going as they chauffeured covered trays to waiting recipients. She wondered where they all went.

"Well...I've taken up enough of your time. I'll get going now," Sarah said, and pushed back from the table. Cedric stood with her. "Thanks again for the meal, and it was nice meeting you, Cedric."

Cedric bowed his head towards her.

"The pleasure was surely mine, Mistress. Anytime you are in need of replenishment, do not hesitate to call on us."

"I won't."

"Oh! That reminds me…" he quickly added, and then glanced down to rifle through his pocket. "Being the new Mistress, I wanted to give you this." He pulled out a keyring, and fingered through to find one in specific. He pulled it loose and offered it to her.

"What's this?" she asked.

"The key to the pantry," Cedric said, gesturing towards the door on the far end of the room behind her. Sarah turned around and glanced at it. "This way, if you're ever in need of a midnight snack, you can come down here after hours and help yourself," he explained. He waited for her to look back at him and then gave her a wink. "That key also unlocks the wine cellar below. His Highness enjoys only the finest vintages, so I'm quite proud of our selection. Feel free to help yourself."

"Oh. Thank you. But...why is the pantry locked?"

"Have you seen my staff?" Cedric asked, incredulously. Sarah's eyes darted around. "Goblins are prone to a little kleptomania, especially with expensive imported meats and alcohols. We've since learned to keep such things firmly caged."

"Ah. I see," Sarah replied, thinking back to the drunken stupors she'd seen many a goblin in while she stormed the castle all those years ago. Yeah...she could see that being an issue. Cedric looked across the room and suddenly his face lit up once more.

"And before you go—" he said, fluttering his fingers at a fae staff member in signal to bring him something. Sarah turned back just as the man brought forth a covered basket and offered it to Cedric. "Take these. A trifle of a welcome gift, but I hope you'll enjoy nonetheless."

He offered the basket to Sarah, who curiously opened the lid.

"What is it?" she asked before actually looking inside.

"Just a few chouquettes," he said, releasing the basket to her custody. Sarah peered beneath the lid again.

"Sorry, a what? I don't know what that is."

"Pastries," he said, in the common tongue. "We serve them with tea after supper. This batch, however, is filled with cream. They're quite delicious on their own, if I may say so myself."

The scent of sugar made its way to her as he spoke, and now Sarah was hungry all over again. The bottom of the basket was warm, so she imagined these were still fresh from the oven. Oh dear. If this was any indication for the future, she was going to end up a cow by Christmas.

"I'm excited to try them. Thank you," she said, prettily, and clutched the basket close. Dessert had always been both her best friend and worst enemy. Usually at the same time. She allowed herself this indulgence however; after she shit she'd gone through this week, she'd earned it. "I'm looking forward to dinner. See you later," she added, as she turned to leave. Cedric, and any remaining staff, bowed to her as she departed.

* * *

A guard showed her the way back to her room by way of the shortcut Lochlan had mentioned the previous night. It was only a couple minute walk. That was nice. She imagined journeying down for quite a number of midnight snacks in the nights to come.

When she reentered her room, she found it was slightly past 2pm. Hm. Only half her day was spent and she already had no idea what to do. A part of her thought about trying to find Jareth again, but she resisted. For all she knew, his business with Lochlan had not yet finished and besides, it was bad enough to come off as easy, but to be regarded as _eager_ was just a step too far. She knew enough that if they were going to have a relationship, he needed to respect her. She needed to be independent and able to hold her ground in some instances...if not others.

No. She would not pursue him. She would wait for _him_ to pursue _her_. Yeah. That sounded good.

She munched on her fancy French puffs as she paced throughout her room. The jury was still out on all of this, but she was starting to think there was something more significant to Lochlan's request from earlier. _Don't let their opinions jade you_ , he'd said. Had he actually been talking about the maids? Clearly there was something going on here on the down low. Something that made them fear for her _durability_. And again, Sarah worried over abuse -the memory of the way he'd snapped at Lochlan so viciously replaying very clearly in her mind. But...even she acknowledged that had been mostly justified. Lochlan had kind of _shattered_ the mood n' all.

It would be naïve to write off so much suspicion...but really, she just didn't see it. When she was near Jareth...she might have felt intimidated for sure, but never afraid. She never felt like he was a danger to her or that he might hurt her. Even when he had his hands on her. Even when he was forcing his way. Maybe she just didn't know him well enough yet…or...maybe...they were the ones whose opinions were jaded.

She passed by the door leading to her balcony and brought the entire basket of morsels with her as she ventured outside.

The sun was bright. The sky perfectly clear. It was hot, but her room was at such an elevation that she caught a breeze. It was crisp, fresh, gentle. She saw there were a table and two chairs to her right, and decided to take a seat.

The landscape before her was vast. The horizon unreachable beyond miles and miles of forest. Sarah's brow slowly drew as she stared at it. Wait a minute.

Forest?

Munching on a puff, Sarah stood and walked towards the railing. She stared out over the scenery. Over the Labyrinth, and the city, and—

And where was the desert?

Sarah blinked repeatedly and did not just a double take, but a triple, and a quadruple take too. She...she could have sworn she remembered the Labyrinth sitting on a desert. Actually, she knew it for a fact. At yet, unless these cookies were making her delirious, the entire region was shrouded in dense greenery.

And not just the land, but the actual labyrinth too. Most of its walls were covered in vines or had just plain converted into shrubbery. She...remembered passing through a section like that back then, but it was nothing like this.

She hadn't realized it last night. The setting sun had rendered the night scape so dark that she'd taken shadows and their colors for granted. How the heck could it change so drastically in a mere five years?

She moved to the far side of the balcony to get as good a look as she could around the castle. From what she could see, the entire surrounding area was temperate. Was this...what they all kept referring to by _new season_? She'd have to ask someone about this...

As she stood at the railing, musing about her surroundings, another breeze lightly ruffled her hair, and with it came the smell of the forest and magic below. She inhaled deeply of it. Savored it's unique feel. She still held half a pastry in her hand and, as her reality dawned on her, she couldn't help but laugh. This wasn't so bad, she thought. Really it was...far from it.

She wondered how her family was doing. Wondered if her father had gotten to go home yet. Karen had to be going ecstatic. Toby must be really happy too. He'd been so nervous these last few months. She really hoped...he was happy.

She went back to her chair and basked in the sunlight. For the most part, the people here, this world itself, was very nice. She never would have guessed it. It'd been less than a week, but the memory of packing her bag already felt like so long ago. It was a little scary...how easily she was finding her place here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm...curiouser and curiouser...


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Yay, I snuck this in before Xmas! I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to, but here we are and with plenty of time to spare =P Happy Holidays everyone! Hopefully I'll be able to crank out the Yule installment of Night of a Thousand Deaths in time as well =D

**Chapter 8, Temperate**

* * *

Sarah woke the following morning feeling pleasantly liberated.

There were no surprise guests, no awkward meetings, no schedule to keep to, or any sort of expectation other than keeping herself alive and entertained. It was amazing, really —like being on vacation.

She rolled out of bed at her leisure at the hour of nine-thirty-two (late by her standards) and took her sweet-ass time to do anything else.

She rang for breakfast and, just like the previous morning, something fresh and delectable was promptly delivered. Today, Cedric had prepared for her a classic spread of French toast, sliced oranges, and sweetened bacon and sausage. The familiarity of it was nearly as pleasing as the taste. So, naturally, she felt obligated to devour every bit of it.

The maids did not come to greet her. She'd reminded them of how unnecessary it was to do so at dinner the previous night. Maybe one of these days she'd actually want to spend some sororal bonding time with them, but not quite yet. Knowing they only wanted to hang out with her because they had either been ordered to, or in the effort to impress Lochlan, wasn't exactly thawing the ice on her end. To both her relief and odd disappointment, this did not seem to bother them. In fact, they were barely concerned with her at all. The amount of idle chatter that had happened at that dinner table was near nonstop. She might as well have been a sconce on the wall.

Oh well. She'd always been a bit of a loner.

After breakfast, she showered and changed and primped herself up —though not without some irony. Who was she trying to impress here, exactly? Herself? Bah! Her version of self care was flannels and a tub of cookie dough in bed, so clearly her subconscious was working towards something else. Was it the maids? Jareth? What were her chances of even seeing any of them? Wasn't she supposed to be too good to care?

 _Damn him_ , she thought, being all dark and mysterious and curiously AWOL. How was she supposed to make him come to her if he lacked even a basic initiative? She didn't see him after the _incident_ in the card room —as she'd aptly dubbed it— and Lochlan had been the definition of aloof when she'd asked him about it at dinner. Nearly twenty-four hours had passed since then of nothing. Nada. While she would always deny it, she'd practically poised herself like a goddamn Venus in furs out on her balcony that night just waiting for a certain owl to swoop in so she could promptly reject what she thought was his lecherous and dastardly nature.

But no. Turns out, he was a _gentleman_. Or...maybe he was busy. Or...he just didn't care.

Fuck, it was irritating.

It was nearing one o'clock in the afternoon by the time she was ready for more...nothing...and could only pace around her room as she pondered what to do.

In the end, she concluded that since yesterday she had gone right, today she should go left and explore that half of the castle. She was bound to run into something (or someone) interesting. Maybe she'd get to hear more uncensored backstory from the maids again.

But of course, that sense of optimism was as fleeting as the syrup drenched bacon on her plate had been. She wandered around and found a whole lot of (surprise, surprise) nothing. No one. Zero. Zilch. Ugh.

She knew it was the maids' job to clean the place, but what was everyone else up to? Where was Madam Miri? Lochlan? Bastian, or Dermot?

From their conversations the previous night, she got the feeling most of them spent the bulk of their time working outdoors. Hm…

 _That might be interesting_ , she thought. She'd yet to traipse the castle grounds, especially now that they were spontaneously covered in foliage. Damn —she'd forgotten to ask them about that at dinner.

With no better heading, she summoned a guard and bid it to escort her outside. It did so immediately, which she supposed quelled her suspicions of whether or not she was even allowed to.

It brought her through the lower levels to a random, completely unsuspecting door which then opened on its own. She paused before exiting the castle, feeling like an alarm might go off should she step on the wrong tile.

But, of course, no such thing happened. No, there was not any effort to impede her or warn her of the potential dangers beyond, whatsoever. Huh. _…Must be safe then?_ she mused as she took that preliminary step.

The outside world was a reflection of her bedroom wall —lush, plush greenery being just barely contained behind the effort of some very lackluster, and absent, caretakers.

She stood on a lawn. A courtyard once, she presumed, by the glimpse of stone tiles she saw poking out of the grass here and there. There were some hedges —unkempt— creating walkways and pseudo-mazes around the space that came only to the height of her hip. They centered around a fountain, overtaken by budding vines which wormed through cracks in the stone, disrupting its once elegant composition into something left jagged and crooked.

Weak streams of water sputtered from its spouts, mounted on tiers which supported a tired old geyser at its pinnacle. It seemed to cough as it struggled against the invasion of the vines, drowning itself in the effort to carry on. _Ah, such were they all,_ she thought.

The twitter of birds echoed from high above, directing her attention to the treeline up ahead.

It was darkened, overshadowed by a dense canopy of spindly, otherworldly trees. Her head tilted as she regarded it, as the sight of a strange, white ambience emitting from those depths triggered a memory.

There was a bench close to her. It was half hidden in tall grass, but it would do.

She sat down and folded her hands in her lap, inhaling deeply of fresh, magically charged air as she took in the scenery.

It was peaceful there. A little neglected, sure, but pleasant all the same. She had no idea how long she sat there —just musing about how much time she could spend by taking up a hobby like gardening— when a flicker of movement caught her eye.

She glanced over into the trees. She'd heard the snap of a twig, too, so was sure there was a critter about. She saw nothing, however, and heard no other sounds.

 _What could it be?_ she wondered. _A rabbit? A fiery? A mountain troll?!_

Honestly she was game for just about anything at that point. Geez. Maybe she shouldn't have been so abrasive and given the maids another chance…

But there it was again. That flicker. A shadow behind the trees. Sarah narrowed her eyes as she focused on it and...and then they widened.

_I often see him taking walks around the grounds…_

Lochlan had said that. Goddamn it. She set herself up, didn't she? Hadn't she resolved herself _not_ to go looking for him again?

But of course, she was her own worst enemy. And, of course, _he_ would be _here_ of all places and at all times.

Sarah's nosy nature, instigated by boredom, compelled her to spy on Jareth as he walked deeper into the woods.

 _What the hell is he doing?_ she asked herself. _Where is he going?_

Oh, questions, questions. How ever would she get them answered?

Like a thief in the night (or in her case, a very foolish voyeur in broad daylight), she picked up the skirt of her dress and shuffled as quietly as she could to catch up with him.

By the time she crossed the underbrush, he was just barely in sight. She could see his cape, black and tattered, as it contrasted against his hair. She felt herself wobbling as she tried to sleuth about, wondering, and cursing, how he managed to move so silently in all those bulky clothes.

She followed him for several minutes, eyes glued to his silhouette and sparing no attention whatsoever for her whereabouts or how to find her way back.

They were moving deeper into the forest, losing sunlight between thickening layers of leaves. The white mist surrounding them grew and glittered, painting the trees wet with alien beads of _something_ that speckled their bark and the ferns that tickled her calves as she passed.

She felt a little nervous. Sneaking up on him was probably a bad thing, she admitted. But still, it was just too interesting. They said curiosity killed the cat, but a more dangerous temptation was surely boredom because, holy hell, the kinds of morbid fancies she was currently imagining of what might await them at the end of this path were turning out to be down right _thrilling_.

She stepped precariously over a log, sparing a split second to glance down to mind her footing. That split second may as well have been an eternity, however, for when she looked back up, he was gone.

"What? Where the fuck—"

"Are you trying to follow me?"

Sarah yelped and jumped a step forward before twirling around and facing Jareth. He was standing directly behind her, his head cocked as he bent forward to speak into her ear.

Her heart lurched into her throat and pounded there, rendering her dumb and frightful as he gradually straightened. His head slowly tilted to the other side, and he arched an expectant brow as he regarded her.

Sarah licked her lips as she settled. Jesus fucking Christ—

"What? No. I uh...I was just going for a walk," she said, stupidly, with eyes that darted to both sides. Jareth's stare on her was unreadable. By the time she finally stopped panicking and tried to analyze it, he dismissed her fluster and stepped away.

He did not reply, did not rebut or tease her quite obvious attempt at a lie, which left her very on edge when he instead took a small step around her and carried on his original trajectory. His cape brushed against her shoulder as he moved, and she turned around on a dime to follow after him.

She hesitated and let him get a few paces ahead of her, staring on in confusion. He did not stop. Did not look back or signal it was okay for her to follow. Maybe she should go back…

She skipped ahead to trail in his wake.

"So...what are you doing out here?" she asked. Jareth glanced back like he hadn't realized she was still there.

"Walking," he said. Sarah pursed her lips.

"Why?"

To her dissatisfaction, he looked forward again, blinking very slowly before replying, "I enjoy the quiet. It's...peaceful."

His tone was subdued. Sounded tired. Her lingering adrenaline told her it might be displeasure towards her. It made her feel a little awkward, and so her eyes lowered to watch the way the ends of his cape slinked over fallen leaves and grass in front of her.

"Oh…"

Geez. It'd been two seconds and already he was being weird. Well, maybe not weird, but certainly off-putting. She couldn't tell if she was bothering him. After the note they'd left off on the previous day, it threw her for a loop. She wanted to badger him with questions, but his back facing her proved both a literal and figurative wall.

They walked in silence as Sarah pondered what to say next. Her eyes, in scrutiny, kept darting up to the back of his head. He did not look back at her again. It kind of annoyed her, honestly. Dark and mysterious indeed…

"So...I've kind of been looking for you," she said, taking one for the team for the betterment of her supposed —and now ironic— _hard to get_ scheme. She stumbled a little as the skirt of her dress caught on a twig.

"Oh?" Jareth replied. His eyes peered back shrewdly while she was distracted. She was hobbling on one foot as she regained balance. A grin creeped as he looked away.

"Yeah. I didn't see you after Lochlan shooed me out. What did he want?" she asked.

"Nothing important."

Sarah looked up from the ground with a quirked brow.

"Important enough that I couldn't hear," she said. There was provocation in that comment. Enough that Jareth paused in his step and turned around to face her. The sudden gesture had her stepping on the hem of her skirt again, though she composed herself quickly.

Jareth looked straight at her and locked eyes. Sarah's brow slowly drew as she regarded a certain sharpness about him.

"Not important and not your concern," he said, then turned back around and resumed his walk. Sarah drew back for a hot second, then made a very nasty face at the back of his head.

Well shit. This was deflating. It didn't seem like he had any interest in speaking with her. Had she dreamed that almost-kiss? Was this that same doppelganger she'd met on the windowsill? And yet, just like that night, he was enduring her company all the same. Hm...maybe she should just shut up and see where he was leading her.

She kicked out the skirt of her dress in the effort to properly walk, and glanced around their surroundings.

"This place...was a desert the last time I was here," she heard herself say. Her brow had turned down. She was feeling a little dispassionate as her eyes roamed among the figures of white fairies floating between the bushes.

Jareth glanced up into the trees.

"It's the season," he said. Sarah tilted her head at him.

"Yeah...I keep hearing people say that, but it doesn't really make sense to me. I saw the Labyrinth from my window and the whole thing looks like a forest. How can that happen in a mere five years?"

Jareth clasped his hands behind his back as he walked.

"The seasons here operate differently than in your world. I suppose...it is more accurate to label them as biomes."

"Biomes?"

"Yes...what you experience as spring, summer, fall, winter, we experience as desert, temperate, arctic, etcetera."

Sarah's expression twisted with puzzlement as she looked over the landscape once more.

"Oh. Wow. That's crazy."

Jareth peered back one more time.

"...not really."

She was looking up into the canopy. Had that wide-eyed look of wonder he remembered seeing on her so long ago. He looked away before she could catch him regarding it.

"The island was in transition when last you were here," he explained. "The land had just begun to shift from the desert to forest season. The change is nearly complete now. I imagine the last traces of sand will float away within a year or so."

"Does it always take that long for seasons to change?"

"Sometimes."

"How long do seasons last? What one comes next?" There was an overwhelming sense of eagerness that carried those words. Curiosity. Excitement. Jareth felt his head starting to turn towards her again.

"I don't know," he said and shrugged. "There is no pattern to it. Seasons change at random. Some may last a century, others less than a year. Transition may take a matter of weeks, others decades. It has become...a bit of an art to predict what each new season will be." And his eyes peered upward once more. "For a time I suspected the forest would become tropical, but...I'm now fairly certain it will remain temperate."

"Huh. That's so interesting," Sarah said, and then stumbled forward as she stepped on the skirt of her dress. She gasped, which was enough to trigger a reflex in Jareth. He turned around and caught her just before she could fall over.

Sarah gulped. She was staring at the ground and had fully expected to make intimate contact with it. The thing she was in intimate proximity with, however, was far more dangerous. She licked her lips and removed herself from Jareth's grasp. He'd taken a very firm hold of her upper arms on instinct —though the memory it spurred within her, she was far too conscious of.

"Careful now. Someone might think you're a damsel," Jareth said and, if she didn't know any better, she would have said he was teasing her. Her eyes flickered up tentatively, surprised to find a very faint grin curling his lips.

Feeling suddenly embarrassed, Sarah's eyes looked anywhere but at him. "Sorry. I'm not used to wearing long skirts, I guess."

Jareth's gaze lowered over her, eyeing the way the hem of her dress draped over her toes as she took a step back.

"It's because your dress is ill-fitted," he said, raising his gaze back to her face. Sarah's brow lifted as she compulsively looked over herself.

"It is?"

"That ensemble was not made for you," he continued, finally content to hold her stare when she looked up at him. She saw a slight shadow under his eyes, but it wasn't his markings. He looked...tired. "You keep tripping because the skirt is too long. Tell Miri to have your wardrobe altered when you get back."

Sarah's brow knitted as she stared at him, for some reason finding significance to the way he'd referred to the castle matron so informally. She wanted to ask about it, but she didn't.

"Oh. Okay. Thanks."

She continued to eye him as he turned back around and started walking again. Just like that. Sarah nibbled her lip as she silently followed.

Seconds turned into minutes. She was becoming distracted by her own musing, and thus didn't realize her pace had gone out of sync with his. A moment later she stepped on his cape, causing him to ungracefully grunt and jerk backward.

Jareth growled in irritation and turned around to glare at her.

Sarah winced.

"Sorry," she said and raised her hands in a sign of appeasement. Jareth's eyes narrowed on her, his glare sharpening until it reached a point Sarah found to be just plain unnecessary. She endured it for one second before turning defensive. "What?" she snapped, stepping back off his cape with a huff. He didn't answer her. Sarah rolled her eyes away. "Oh, don't give me that look. Maybe if you walked in line with me like an equal this wouldn't happen." And she crossed her arms tightly. One of Jareth's brows arched, but she was having none of it. She returned his look and tossed a flippant hand in the air. "And who the hell wears a freaking cape on a hike anyway? I thought I was the one supposedly improperly dressed?"

She scoffed and shook her head, rolling her eyes away from him again. Jareth felt his teeth grind as a small heat built behind his eyes.

His gaze traced the curve of her lips as they twisted in profile, regarded the tension in her brow and the cutting highlight on her eye. A tick moved through his expression as he subdued his more impulsive urges, and then he sighed roughly.

"Well now, Princess. I didn't realize there was something stopping you from taking the initiative to walk in line with me," he said and grabbed her firmly by the wrist. "But, if it really means so much to you—"

Sarah tried not to gasp and instead pulled away as he aggressively pulled her forward. She stumbled close to his side, her eyes going wide with expectation as he held her arm up in the space between them and glared. She watched the color around his eyes flicker just then, moving as a black shadow that spidered outward and then vanished. If it was meant to intimidate her, it failed. She only sucked in a sharp inhale and curled her captured hand into a fist.

"Let go of me," she said and tried to jerk herself free. Jareth found her efforts to be literally laughable.

"Heh, well which is it?" he asked, his expression taunting her with its amusement as he yanked her even closer. "So much trouble already," he continued and inclined his head towards her. "—and we're not even married yet."

He cocked a nasty half smile at the end like her huff of anger did nothing more than delight him. But, to her surprise, his commanding grip on her immediately loosened. His hand lowered to her elbow, and her ornery little eyes reflexively dropped to the motion as he locked her arm with his. Then, while she was still looking so offended, he leaned towards her with a very deriding light in his eyes. "Pick up your skirt," he said, biting each word. Sarah's eyes darted to her toes in a panic. "—And try not to drag me down with you next time, hm?"

His sneer humbled to an arrogant curl of the lips as he straightened and looked away from her. Her heart gave a hard pound just as he jerked her forward alongside him. They took a few steps in stride, in silence. She stared at him cautiously and, as she came to realize he was in fact _not_ as murderous as such sudden aggression implied, felt her quickened pulse shift to become symptomatic of an entirely different kind of _panic_. Uh-oh.

 _Hm...so forceful,_ she thought —giving him a very canny side eye as she felt the corners of her lips beginning to curl. She had to turn away to conceal it. _So very *manly* of you_. Her pursed lips pursed as hard as they could, but she was unable to hold back the grin any longer. She covered her mouth with the tips of her fingers as she stared intently to the side.

Surely she was playing with fire. Surely it would be sheer stupidity to laugh at him right now. But oh, he looked so damn flustered —trying to be all scary with that dark makeup and roguish demeanor. It almost worked for a minute there.

She rolled her lower lip over her teeth as she glanced back towards him and lightly squeezed his arm. Spontaneous manhandling aside, the way he now carried himself with her was very genteel.

"What's this? An escort?" she asked, then peered up with a wry eye which he could not help but hone in on. Her brow arched very sharply as she said, "Careful now. Someone might think you're a gentleman."

Jareth, with what was once a stern expression, regarded her with the same kind of savvy as an impulsive grin twitched to life.

He huffed through his nose then arched a brow in her direction. " _Someone_ ought to know better."

Sarah's eyes roamed slyly away as she bit the inside of her cheek. There was practically a twinkle in his eye as he said that. Hm. So, he was still capable of being playful after all? Even when he was annoyed? Gosh...that was kind of cute.

A few moments passed while she reveled in that odd state of satisfaction. She even curled her hand around his bicep for better _stability_. Oh, how daring.

"So...where are we going? We're pretty deep in the forest. Is there a destination for this walk?" she asked.

Jareth peered to the side.

"Perhaps."

Sarah scowled and pursed her lips.

"Perhaps? Well that's cryptic."

She was looking away but turned back in reaction to the faint rumble of laughter that she felt moving his chest. She found him staring straight ahead with a smirk on his face.

"Something funny?" she asked.

She watched him warily as he brought them to a standstill, then turned and looked down at her.

"Yes. _You_."

The audacity poised in how he held his eyes on hers had her fingers twitching with offense, but the way it paired with that cheeky little grin was her undoing. She could only squeeze his arm tighter as she rolled her eyes away.

She huffed in annoyance, which seemed to be a satisfying enough reaction for Jareth as he looked away once more and pulled her off in a different direction.

"Your right to concern was forfeit when you chose to insert yourself in my business," he said, tugging her close to his side whenever he felt her start to worm away. There was hesitation in her step now. It excited him. "It's very rude to spy on people —follow them, accost them, attack them, then have the audacity to question their integrity and intensions—"

"Wha?" Sarah asked, staring at him dubiously as she tripped over a rock. "What conversation were you participating in exactly?"

Jareth laughed again and used the force of their locked elbows to keep her walking straight.

"Perhaps, since you've put forth so much effort into the matter, you should settle down and just let me _escort_ you there." And he turned and shot her an eye. "You may have heard that patience is a virtue —or have you become the type of woman who prefers a more instant kind of gratification?"

Sarah's brow slowly drew together as she stared at him. That dastardly twinkle was back. Was...that an innuendo? Was he...flirting? Oh no. And that grin —was it meant to be teasing or...enticing? Fuck. She could feel a red alert moving as a blush up into her cheeks before sharply glancing away.

"I _prefer_ not to be made fun of," she said tersely.

"And I prefer not to be followed."

He sounded a twinge more serious as he said that. Sarah gave in to the urge to peer up at him.

"You could have told me to leave."

"I'm aware."

"I don't mean to bother you."

"Did I say you were bothering me?" His eyes slanted down again and caught hers. She gaped for a moment, silent. Oh snap —he'd caught her off guard. "Although," he continued, roaming his eyes away. "All this fussing _is_ disrupting the peacefulness of my afternoon walk. Perhaps you could do as I do and endure it. We're almost there anyway."

Sarah pursed her lips but said nothing —reluctantly looking away before very petulantly pretending to be more concerned with evaluating the aesthetics of their surroundings. Once she was _actually_ distracted, Jareth spied on her again. She was vexed, clearly, but somehow still...very calm. She had no guard up whatsoever. That surprised him. He wasn't sure how to feel about it.

His attention briefly lowered to the spot where her hand held his arm, where her fingers mindlessly tapped and her thumb squeezed —and then he looked away.

* * *

They deviated from the current path and entered a denser part of the forest. Sarah was careful to do as he'd said and remember to hold up her skirt this time, as she had to step over young ferns and shrubs in the effort to not make herself a fool in front of him again. She had to hold onto his arm a little tighter because of this, though he didn't seem to mind. On the contrary, he actually braced his arm for her to help her over some more inconvenient logs.

At his _recommendation_ , she stayed quiet. They both did. And she was thankful to find it actually quelled her annoyance towards him. She knew she could have a bit of a short fuse when it came to silver-tongued bastards like him, but...damn. Why did she find him so disarming?

She refused to ponder that while in such close proximity, and instead appreciated the _peacefulness_ of the forest. She would agree with him on that, at least. It was nice. Quaint. Charming. —Uncanny as all get out, but still.

And quaint, charming, peaceful, uncanny little walks like this? Well, if this was to be her life now, then she had to admit it wasn't so bad. And...honestly...neither was he.

He looked very dapper today —wearing a dark maroon jacket beneath his cape, paired with a white tunic that was open and flowy in the chest. She could see the black cord of a necklace dropping beneath his shirt, which she assumed (intensely imagined) was connected to his pendant falling...just below his sternum. As they walked, Sarah's creeping gaze —at war with her denial— lowered even more and couldn't help but count the number of loose tassels leading down his front.

Four. There were four sets.

Eventually she heard the sound of running water and was able to break away from her ogling. Those tassels were her enemy, she determined. How dare they taunt her by being so wanton and untied.

She looked ahead just as the brush thinned. Between the trees she could see the surface of a pond. The water's pane reflected the dark canopy above, that blackened silhouette broken by pieces of light that had wormed themselves between cracks in the foliage. Those bright, pin-points seemed to sparkle as they undulated, ebbing and flowing on ripples created by a little stream that fed into the pond. There was something else behind the trees. Grey. Vague. Obelisks? She couldn't tell, and neither was she fully paying attention when she nearly bumped into a tree. Instinctively, she reached out and pressed a hand off it as she passed. As she released the bark, her eyes peered back.

She flinched when she saw there was a face in it.

But, before she could voice that moment of alarm, Sarah noticed several other trees around them that were just like it. They bore knots that looked like sleeping faces, all scattering farther and farther into the distance. Some of them even had humanlike figures. Branches looked like arms. Trunks looked like torsos or curvaceous hips. A few, she noted, even had _discernable_ genders. That was...odd, she thought. They didn't look like carvings...

Jareth, seemingly ignorant to her skepticism, led her into the clearing. The grass turned to gravel, and he released her arm as she silently took another step forward.

The white mist thinned in this place. Made it easier to see. Though, in contrast, it only created a vignette for the space around them. Whatever leered behind the trees across from them was unknown. The ground was rocky, the gurgle of the stream now more apparent without the buffer of trees. Sarah left Jareth and his well-mannered hand behind her as she peered all around. The forms she had spied were not obelisks but rather...some very life like renditions.

Littering the area were dozens of statues, figures of tiny humanoids, the tallest of which barely came to her shoulder. They danced. Frolicked. Reclined in the gravel or in the grass. A few she even spied peeking out of the water. The whole area looked like a snapshot. Creatures left unsuspecting and forever captured in time. Sarah wandered from one statue to the next, her curious fingers slowly rising to caress the cheek of each one.

 _Such peaceful expressions,_ she thought. Even the ones that were so weathered barely any face was left to be recognized at all. Some, however, looked freshly carved, and the detail displayed in the rendering of hair alone was quite simply...beautiful.

Sarah turned around to find Jareth staring off vacantly.

"What is this place?" she asked, trailing her eyes down the slender figure of a girl-like thing forever placing a flower in its hair. "Is it...a sculpture garden?"

Jareth, mimicking her, took a step towards a statue and stared. She watched him lift a hand to touch it, but he didn't.

"No," he said, then lowered his hand back to his side. "It's a graveyard."

"What?"

Sarah drew back, reflexively looking down to the figure beside her. A graveyard? So...were these tombstones? She peered around and turned in a circle. There were...quite a lot of them.

"And they are not statues," she heard Jareth say, and she looked back over at him.

"Oh? Then what are they?"

Sarah's brow knitted as she watched him reach up and pluck open the sole button on his jacket.

"Corpses," he said, then turned casually towards her. "This place is a resting place for nymphs. What you see, these figures in the stones and the trees, are what remains of ones who have long since passed." He approached her and came to stand with a hand on his hip. Sarah, now feeling vaguely put off, took a step away from the creature she'd just been fondling.

He watched her as she turned clear away from him and looked over the pond again. Beneath the dark water she could see forms of nymphs curled into the mud. Some embraced. Some slept in fetal shapes. Some were so worn by the water they were little more than rocks.

"I don't understand," she said, her attention roaming back to the prancing bunch to the side of her. "They look so happy. In motion. Were they killed somehow?" She looked up at Jareth just as he looked down at her.

"No. All of the creatures here died naturally," he said. Sarah pursed her lips as they both looked away. "For whatever reason…" he started, his voice trailing off with distraction as he peered into the murky water. "...they gather here at the end of their life cycle to die."

"Oh. I see," Sarah said, absently staring at what looked to be a child skipping, hand in hand, with a parent. "But none of them look old or sick. I'm...confused."

"Nymphs are linked to nature via their environment," Jareth explained. Sarah looked over attentively. "Therefore, they can only survive so long as that environment is provided. Nymphs are born at the start of each season, likewise nymphs must die at the end." He took a step away from her and stared down at a gently formed face peeking out of the gravel. Sarah frowned as she thought over his words. "When last you were here, this place was littered with sand and wind nymphs. Now they are dead. Now, in their place, this pond births a variety of tree, flower, and water nymphs."

She watched him as he haphazardly brushed some of the dirt away from the creature buried before them with the toe of his boot. The expression on his face while doing so was curious. Like he was lost in thought.

"Oh," she said, and tilted her head as she looked around herself. "That's...kind of beautiful —and sad. It's tragic that they're forced to die just because the seasons change."

"I suppose," Jareth said, sliding his hands into the pockets on his jacket. "But, such is life on an island. On a continent they may follow their season. Here, however, there is nowhere for them to go."

"I see. So how then...can they look so happy?"

Jareth glanced over to find her looking very sympathetic.

"Why wouldn't they?" he answered with a shrug. "They live a very carefree life —however long or short it may be. I can't imagine they have much to regret by the time they come here."

Sarah looked away from him. The near silence of their surroundings was now getting to her. What was once peaceful now felt solemn. The twitter of the birds felt very far away.

"I guess," she said, then she turned around to the figure closest to her. "I didn't see any nymphs last time...What do they look like when they're alive?"

"I don't know," Jareth replied. Sarah looked over at him with confusion. "As I said, nymphs are linked to their environment. They are...spirits, in a sense. They only take on a tangible form in death." He took a step away from the face at his feet and averted his gaze to trail from one end of the canopy to the other. The gesture was leading, inciting Sarah to do the same. "For instance...since I presume you haven't yet noticed, we are actually surrounded by them."

"What?"

Sarah's look of confusion gained a trace of alarm as she scoured the leaves above them. She didn't see anything. So...they were invisible? Then how the heck could Jareth tell—

"Look around you," Jareth said, and her head snapped back down. One of his brows arched as he tilted his head. "And listen." Sarah stood in silence, looking dumb by darting her eyes every which way with a tightly knitted brow. She focused on her ears, but...all she heard were sounds of the forest. "Do you hear that?"

Sarah looked straight at him and scowled.

"Hear what?"

Jareth inhaled deeply and tilted his head to the other side. He didn't say anything right away. His attention was cast on the tree closest to them. After a few seconds, there was a rustle in the branches high above them. His head straightened as he looked back at Sarah.

"That."

Sarah's brow drew even tighter as she looked sharply up at the tree. She didn't see anything. Not a creature anyway. She did, however, catch a glimpse of a jostling branch just before the sound of another loud rustle. Like a burst of wind. Next it came from the bushes. Her attention darted to the underbrush just as a patch of tall grass shook.

"And that," Jareth said, eyeing the same bush. Next there was a little splash in the pond. Sarah had assumed they were fish, but apparently not. "...and that."

The inflection in Jareth's voice made it seem like he was speaking to a toddler, but Sarah was too intrigued to be offended by it. Her mouth hung open a little as more sounds and motions revealed themselves. She was now looking every which way. He was right. They really were _surrounded_.

"So...those are nymphs?" she asked skeptically.

"Yes. Scurrying about."

She heard a kerplop, and looked over just as three tiny steps were taken across the surface of the pond. She had no idea if that's what was happening, but the idea of a little nymph daintily dancing across the water's surface was delightful. She started to smile as she envisioned it.

"Huh...that's so cool."

She was distracted. She wasn't sure for how long. She did, however, snap back to attention at the sound of Jareth's shuffling. She looked over just in time to catch him taking off his jacket. "Um, what are you doing?"

Her brow furrowed tightly once more as he draped his coat and cape over a forearm before arbitrarily tossing them on the ground.

"What does it look like?" he asked, turning his back on her as he walked away. There was a flattened boulder of sorts a short distance away. Sarah's confusion returned as she watched him lace his hands behind his head and recline against it. "I'm getting comfortable."

Sarah's head twitched. He was laying down now, with one leg drawn up on the rock as he took in a long breath. It looked like he'd closed his eyes too. What the heck?

"Why?" she asked him, with suspicion. He did not respond.

The sound of her footsteps over gravel felt loud to her as she came nearer. Something about this sudden repose felt strange. Not to be trusted. But, against her instincts, she stood close to him anyway. She stared down at him for a moment, her eyes free to inspect what was shaping up to be fine form beneath that tunic as he continued to feign sleep. Damn her eyes —this was not the time to ogle. Especially when his behavior was so...confusing.

"So...do you come here often?" she awkwardly asked. Jareth readjusted his hands and inhaled deeply.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"To meditate."

Sarah's brow knit into a scowl, unable to discern if that had been sarcasm. He didn't look like he was toying with her. He didn't particularly sound like it either...

"You...seem tired," she said, her eyes lowering down his face and the very faint color of fatigue she could still see under his eyes.

"I am."

And now her gaze lowered away from him. _So...this is why he came all the way out here? To...take a nap? Weird…_

She pursed her lips and turned around, slumping to the ground as she sat against the rock at his side. He did not say anything more. Did not suggest she head on back, nor welcome her to join him. The silence that then followed sent her to sea. She wasn't quite sure...what to do with herself.

"Jareth?" she asked after a few minutes. Once again, he did not respond. She kept on talking anyway. "Why do the maids avoid you?"

A few seconds passed. As Sarah waited for a reply, she wondered if he'd actually fallen asleep.

"...Because they know better."

Her feet shifted in the dirt as she drew her knees close to her chest. Her gaze turned hollow as she pondered his response, and she stared outward at nothing as a very odd feeling slowly crept over her.

Her fingers tightened over her knees as she hugged them.

"Should... _I_ avoid you?"

There was another silence. She imagined him giving her that slow blink before he replied,

"Yes."

Sarah frowned. That word was a wall. One that she couldn't mount. She didn't get it. She didn't understand all this mystery.

"Why?" she asked. She waited a beat just like before, but this time the silence kept stretching. She thought maybe he was ignoring her, and turned around to confront him. "Jareth?"

She leaned up to stare at him, blinking repeatedly only to find him completely unresponsive. His breathing was very shallow, and his head had turned a little to one side. _So he's sleeping now, huh?_ and her curious eyes moved down his front. Guess...he _was actually tired after all…_

She shifted to sit on her knees and leaned in close to his face. He did not react, which of course only egged her on. He reminded her of a sleeping lion, though a part of her could not help but be tempted by that sense of danger. Her eyes moved from his face to what she could see of his hands. The way he'd grabbed hold of her arm earlier was admittedly jolting, but now he seemed so gentle. The way he'd helped her along through the brush was considerate. _Fickle_ , she reminded herself. Hm, but not wicked...not cruel...or evil... She tilted her head slowly to one side, and she vacantly regarded the shape of his lips as she thought _, I just don't get it._ _You really don't...seem so bad to me..._

* * *

His mind was blank. The pressure there was gone. The void behind his eyelids was still dark but now weightless. Jareth sighed in relief.

The first thing that came back were the sounds of birds —a twitter, an echo. It was familiar. Pleasant. Calm.

He inhaled through his nose and slowly opened his eyes. The leaves above were the same as before, gently rustling under a faint breeze. He laid there and stared up at them, half-comatosed as he tried to savor the ease this moment brought him for as long as it would last.

_"Oh. Thank you."_

Jareth's brow twitched. What the hell? He sat up and looked around, wondering why the fuck he'd just heard a woman's voice. And then it caught up with him. And then he saw her out of the corner of his eye.

Oh. Right. _She_ followed him here…

But —wait —who the hell was she talking to?

He sat up completely and shifted in his spot on the rock. He'd caught a glimpse of the top of her head from his peripheral, and located her sitting on the ground close to his side. His eyes narrowed on her in scrutiny, and then she turned around.

She must have heard him moving, but still her brow lifted in surprise. It was an expression which must have mirrored his own as he eyed the crown of yellow flowers she now wore on her head, and then the overflowing pile littering her lap. He did not have time to ponder these things, however. No, he was struck little more than dumb. The world became strangely brighter when she looked up at him, and that moment of calm he'd always found so fleeting lasted just a little bit longer when she locked onto his gaze and smiled.

"Oh. You're finally awake. Morning, sleepy head."

She gave him a sweet little laugh that matched her even sweeter expression. Jareth's brow furrowed tightly.

"You're still here," he said, flatly. Sarah wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a question.

"Um...yes?" she replied, then turned back around. "Seemed kind of pointless to try and find my way back on my own. I'd probably just get lost. And besides…" Her attention fell to her lap where her fingers fiddled with a blossom. Jareth's curiously followed. "I'd rather sit here with your empty vessel than be alone in that castle, so…"

"My empty vessel?" he repeated. Sarah set her flowers down, and, from her profile, he caught the flicker of a grin that sparked the corner of her mouth.

"Yeah, basically," she said with a chuckle. "You were really down for the count. I don't think an avalanche could have woken you."

She said that far too casually for his liking. Jareth felt a scowl forming.

"How long has it been?" he asked.

"Ah...I don't know. A few hours? I have no idea, really," Sarah replied, then turned back around to face him. She surprised him by sitting up on her knees and leaning in. "Hm, your eyes look a little better," she said with a tilt of the head. "You must have really needed that nap. How do you feel?"

Jareth was silent. Suspicious. No one _ever_ looked at him so brazenly. He stared intently at her, but his bothered expression did not seem to have any affect on her. He caught a whiff of the flowers in her hair, which caused his attention to flicker from them, to the expectant look in her eye, and back again. How was he feeling?

"...improved."

"Good," Sarah said, and turned back around. She plopped down in her original spot and went back to work. Jareth, vaguely wondering if this was not some kind of dream, moved to sit at the edge of the boulder and watched her carefully.

"What...are you doing?"

"Hm?" Sarah blinked and peered back. "Making daisy chains," she said and held one up. "See? It seemed a good way to pass the time."

Jareth's brow tightened once more (if it had previously relaxed to begin with), and his eyes reflexively darted from the rope of flowers in her lap to the bushes rimming the area.

"You picked the flowers?"

Sarah paused. There was something heavy in that question. She set down her string and slowly turned around to face him.

"Ah...a couple? Why? Was I not supposed to?"

She watched one of Jareth's brows twitch as he glanced down to her lap again.

"There are more than a _couple_ of flowers about you."

"Yeah...I didn't pick them though," she said, peering to the side as she shrugged. "The nymphs gave them to me."

Jareth blinked.

"What?"

* * *

When it became clear that Jareth had no intention of entertaining her any longer, Sarah forced herself to cease her meddling and find another means of spending her time. She was basically alone now...somewhere deep in an enchanted forest where the creatures were invisible and no one who might care had any idea where she had gone. Hm. Jareth _would_ actually wake up if something bad happened, right? If she started to scream? The Queen's ring kept her safe from magical attacks, supposedly. But, as she just now realized, that meant absolutely nothing when it came to physical attacks…

Oh well. She'd be fine. _Just don't go around eating anything_ , she told herself.

She'd walked around the pond and the petrified nymphs. For every one she inspected, she discovered two more concealed within foliage or rock. They were so curious. So cute and pretty. She was finding it difficult to wrap her head around the fact that they were, effectively, dead bodies.

As she acclimated to the environment, she was able to tell apart the mischief of the nymphs from the natural sounds of the forest. A few of them had taken to tossing up the end of her skirt, like a little breeze, and she thought one had even tugged on her hair. Initially she wondered just how _mischievous_ these creatures would become without Jareth's watchful eye on them, but for the most part they left her be.

In her exploring, she noticed beds of flowers surrounding the area. They had yellow blooms with bright, pink stamen. They reminded her of over-sized buttercups. They even had that same little glow about them.

Without thinking, she picked a couple. They had a very faint scent, which she was distracted by when a sudden jostling of the bush beside her sent her jumping back.

She stood tensed as she stared at the bush. That nymph had startled her, but was it on purpose? She started looking around then, growing wary when the whole perimeter of underbrush began to fidget. They seemed to be moving towards her. Uh-oh.

She licked her lips as she pondered what to do, replaying that whole _touch nothing but the lamp_ spiel in her head. As the branches above her began to shake and snap, an idea sprang to mind.

She took the flowers and spun them together, curling their stems into a little ring which she then placed on the finger of a nearby, deceased nymph. As she pulled away from it, she noticed the rustling stop.

"I'm sorry," she said, then took a step back and looked all around her immediate vicinity. "Is that better?"

It was silent. Loudly silent. Goodness, this was kind of scary. Would they pounce? Would they eat her? Would Jareth just keep on sleeping like goddamn Snow White all the while?

The silence stretched. The trees and everything else were still. Sarah held her hands up tentatively and took another step back. Then, curiously, flowers began to pluck themselves from the ground.

She watched as they floated to her, slowly spinning like little gyros. Then, like in a dance, they moved in a circular motion around her. Sarah turned around in a tiny circle, then carefully picked one from the air.

"Um...thank you?" she said, but that wasn't enough. The flowers twirling around her bounced with rhythm, like they were imploring her to take more.

Sarah licked her lips and accepted each flower that passed by.

She wasn't sure what to do with them, so she started making more rings. A couple dozen or so. When each was finished, she offered it to the air and watched as it was gently taken from her grasp. The little things spun faster as they floated away, then popped like bubbles in a poof of petals and pollen.

Sarah laughed at this, realizing (after the fifth one or so) that they were playing a game. She took up the flowers she had left and went to get comfortable back in her spot beside Jareth. Just as she sat down, a small mountain of flowers rained into her lap.

* * *

Sarah roamed her eyes from left to right as she recounted this tale to Jareth.

"So...They've seemed pleased. I figured it was okay if they were giving them to me. Was I wrong?"

She peered back with an inconcealable wince. The way Jareth was regarding her was indiscernible. The leather of his gloves crinkled as his hand drew into a fist while readjusting his posture on the stone. He leaned forward and planted his feet firmly on the ground beside her.

"This is a hallowed place," he said, breaking his stare on her to cautiously look around the area. "Picking those flowers was a show of disrespect. Quick thinking aside, you're lucky they did not attack you."

He was looking a little skeptical, like perhaps they were still in danger of such a fate. Sarah found his belated sense of concern a little ironic.

"Apparently. God knows you wouldn't have been able to save me," she said with a twinge of sarcasm. Jareth's attention went back to her just as she huffed and looked away.

"You should show more caution," he warned her. "You're defenseless. This is a dangerous place."

"And yet you didn't think to warn me of this before passing out and abandoning me here?" she turned around and asked with a snap. She had a sassy little smirk on her face and one of her brows arched arrogantly. "You said it yourself, didn't you? I gave up my right to concern when I followed you? Good thing I'm not your responsibility," she went on, shaking her head as she turned around and went back to lacing flowers. "Thank you for the retroactive warning, Jareth, but clearly I've handled myself just fine."

She did not sound ornery, but the slight aggression shown in the way she handled the flowers spoke otherwise. Jareth's eyes lowered over her once more. He could see her profile a little better now, and he remarked to himself that the pink in the flowers was a near perfect match for that of her lips...

"They've taken a liking to you," he said with distraction. Sarah shrugged.

"Well yeah. I've been making them toys."

"Toys?"

He drew back when she stood to her feet, holding loops of flowers in her hands as she took a half step away from him.

"Yeah. Here, watch this. It's pretty cool," she said and looked outward at nothing. "You all ready?" she called out, then, without any further preamble, tossed the entire bundle up into the air. The cord untangled and was caught by nymphs on the wind as they carried it away. The rope spiraled through the air like it was alive, moving in serpentine loops that expanded its form until it occupied a twenty foot volume. Sarah, acting like this was a sight so familiar to her, angled back to Jareth with a wide grin. "Isn't that amazing?" she asked. Jareth stared. "It only lasts about a minute though. I think they get too excited and end up tearing it apart." She looked away from him and back at the chain as she spoke, then her brow lifted high when a little spot in it went poof. "Whoop. See?" she said, pointing at the spot where petals fluttered. And now there were two chains dancing.

Jareth was...bewildered. He could only sit there silently as he watched her giggle and interact with creatures which, normally, did their very best to conceal their presence from everything. It was just like before —the way she was able to connect with his world like it was something that had always belonged to her.

He was daydreaming, though he'd later blame it on the fatigue. Regardless, it left him unguarded when she turned towards him and picked something up off the ground.

"Here, I made one for you too," she said, and he blinked back to attention when he noticed how close she'd come. She was standing. He was still sitting. He was at the level of her chest when he looked up to her face. Her arms went around either side of his head as she draped a ring of flowers around his neck.

The flowers smelled good. She smelled better.

"There. Lovely," Sarah said, trying not to laugh as she watched him glance down and sneer. When he looked up at her again it was with a sharply angled brow. Sarah pursed her lips while placing her hands on her hips. "Don't you look pretty." Her amusement broke through as a teeny curl at the corner of her mouth. It was enough to make Jareth draw back from her. He looked annoyed. She was glad. "I hope you won't _immediately_ tear this up," she said, with a wry inflection. Jareth, on the verge of doing just that, paused as he gave her his attention. "This is your punishment —it's what you get for leaving helpless little me to my own devices in an enchanted forest."

The pause endured. Now it was joined by a little tick in his expression. That felt like a challenge somehow. Like it would be more demeaning _not_ to concede.

Jareth's hand slowly lowered back to the rock. Well, best not to disappoint the girl…

His eyes lowered briefly as well, and then he forgot about the matter entirely as a look of confusion twisted his face. What the—

"Did...you tie my shirt?" he asked.

Sarah's face flared a beet red for one single second before whipping around in a panic.

"Oh. So you noticed that, huh?" she asked with a nervous smile. When she was semi-composed, she turned back around to find him plucking at the laces. "Sorry. You were, uh...you were looking a little chilly."

Jareth either ignored or did not notice her queer anxiety as he dismissed the issue and stood from the stone. Sarah watched him with lingering fluster as he walked over and picked up his jacket.

"Anyway...now what?"

Jareth shook the fallen leaves from his coat and cape and put them back on.

"Now we head back," he said and glanced upward. "It's nearing evening, and this is a place you do not want to be wandering around in after dark." A few wayward petals drifted his way; he raised a hand to shoo them off as he took a step towards the path that brought them there. As he walked away, Sarah realized he was not going to wait for her, and scuttled forward to join him.

He entered the forest by stepping over a vine. This brought back memories of earlier inconveniences, which gave him pause. He glanced back over his shoulder to find her staring at her toes —mindfully holding up the skirt of her dress as she stepped over the same vine. Jareth grinned.

Sarah looked up just in time to avoid bumping into him, her look of focus shifting to surprise when she saw he was offering her his hand.

He didn't say anything —lest he dignify the situation in any way. No, he only gave her a very bored quirk of a brow as he waited. Sarah stared at him and the floral necklace he _still_ wore, and bit on a grin. _Oh, how polite,_ she inwardly teased. _Such a man_ , _indeed_.

She released one end of her skirt and clasped his hand instead.

Without a word, Jareth guided her forward to his side where she comfortably laced her arm with his. A few minutes passed before she spoke up again.

"So...why were you so tired?" she asked, distracted by a log she had to take a high step over. "Did you stay up too late?"

"Yes."

Sarah glanced up curiously.

"Doing what?"

He did not respond right away, though she saw his brow tense a little.

"...working."

"On?"

She pouted when this time he did not respond at all, stoically keeping his eyes straight ahead. She pursed her lips and squeezed his arm as she turned away.

"Fine. Keep your secrets. I bet it's something boring anyway." She angled her nose upward and glared at a tree, trying to sound haughty rather than petulant. Jareth regarded this reaction of hers from the corner of his eye, finding the whole display to be rather entertaining.

His arm flexed around hers, urging for her to look back at him.

"Reverse psychology," he started, turning and angling his head down at her as he spoke. "—or an attempt as weak as that, at least, will not work on me. But good try." He gave her a wink and a halfcocked grin, which was more than enough to send her glaring away again.

She subconsciously jerked herself away from him as she did this. He consciously jerked her back.

"You think you're a real tough cookie, don't you?" she asked, with a sudden edge. Jareth arched a brow.

"Excuse me?"

"I think you should show a little gratitude," she went on, averting her eyes and carrying herself a little taller as she glanced away. "I could have done all sorts of humiliating things to you while you were unconscious, and you wouldn't have noticed a thing."

She sounded very arrogant as she said that, a little coy, and entirely too tempting. Jareth fought against the urge to provoke her.

"Really? What makes you so confident?"

He didn't anticipate the cunning he saw when she turned her head up at him, the knowing arch in her brow, or the naughty curl on her lips. Her eyes flickered boldly down his front and then back up again.

"You didn't notice all the messing around I did with your clothes, did you?"

Oh, such daring. Oh, how that look alone ignited something wholly unwelcome within him. The bow of her lips showed him endless possibilities, coercions carried by a voice in the back of his head which he viscerally ignored.

The shadow around his eyes may have darkened a little just then, but she didn't notice.

"For all you know, maybe I did do some things," she carried on, shrugging and looking away in nonchalance. "—Some wicked, nasty things to your unsuspecting body in that _hallowed_ place. Maybe the nymphs even joined in."

Jareth laughed. She didn't expect it, so turned back to look at him without her bravado. He was smiling widely, the sound lingering deep in his chest. She liked that sound, she determined. And she liked that expression. A lot.

"I do hope you're bluffing, little one," he said, and turned that grin down at her. "Otherwise it would be within my full right to seek retribution. Although…" and his eyes dropped down her torso in an overtly lewd manner. "...something tells me your body would be _fully_ suspecting."

Oh no. Now she'd done it. He was being flirty again. Giving her that look that seemed to have a direct line to her girlish panic. She felt a blush coming on, and turned her widened eyes away.

"You better watch yourself, Goblin King," she said _very_ sternly. "You're speaking to a damsel here, remember?"

* * *

Lochlan ruffled the dust from his hair as he reentered the castle. He'd been in the city's outskirts aiding Dermot for most of the day, but the fading daylight was his call to rest. Dinner would be served soon. He should probably check on Sarah too…

He was alone as he walked the grand halls of the lowest level. Though this area was abandoned, it was always very pleasant. It faced the north side of the island, and had magnificently tall windows —they always caught the best array of light no matter the time, and gave it all a very pretty ambiance.

He was about to turn a corner when he caught sight of Merek and a sentinel looking conspicuous a ways ahead. He changed course and greeted him.

"Captain? Everything alright?" he asked.

Merek looked over reflexively, so did not have time to smooth away the troubled look from his face.

"Yes...so it seems."

"What do you mean?" Lochlan asked, then looked to the side. Merek had been staring out a doorway leading to a courtyard, the threshold of which being where the sentinel currently stood. Lochlan's eyes quickly scanned the area, though nothing stood out to him.

"The Mistress…" Merek said, then bit on his cheek as he warred with a thought. Lochlan looked back at him curiously.

"What about her? Is she alright?"

Merek nodded but lifted his arm to scratch at the back of his head.

"Yes. Supposedly."

"Supposedly?" Lochlan repeated, then glanced outside once more. "Where is she?"

Merek sighed and gestured at the forest.

"Out there, I guess," he said with a tense laugh. Lochlan was starting to get a little worried.

"Alone?" he asked. Merek shook his head.

"No. The sentinels say she's with _him_."

Merek's tone made that reveal sound like a heavy one, but the way Lochlan's face livened up in reaction to it was not what he was expecting.

"Oh?" Lochlan asked with a very perky upturn. Merek looked over at him, confused by the smile he now saw.

"Yes."

"For how long?"

And now he sounded excited. What? Merek watched as Lochlan scoured the treeline across from them once again, but this time with fervor.

"...Several hours now."

"What? Really?"

Lochlan drew back with a wide look of surprise. It was the complete opposite of Merek's terse brow.

"Indeed," he said, then glanced over at the sentinel. "I've been...conflicted. What would you recommend in this instance?"

Lochlan placed a hand on his hip and shrugged.

"Recommend? Nothing," he said, and looked over at Merek. "None of the wards have been triggered, have they?"

Merek shook his head.

"No."

"And the sentinels still have an eye on them?"

"Well...not exactly," Merek answered with a wince, then gestured back at the forest. "That's why I've been conflicted. They know their general vicinity, but...you know how he gets."

Lochlan pinched his chin and hummed.

"Yes...I forgot about that. Hm."

He took a moment to ponder, staring into the trees as an index finger mindlessly tapped on his hip. Beyond this display, he did not look particularly concerned. Merek didn't quite understand.

"So? What would you have me do?" Merek asked again. Lochlan clicked the back of his teeth and, after another moment of deliberation, turned to him with a verdict.

"As I said: nothing."

Contrary to Lochlan's ease, Merek was now scowling very intently.

"Really? Are you sure that's wise? I know you told me to keep a distance with her, but I have no idea what they're doing—"

"And neither is it any of our business," Lochlan interjected. "Outside of protecting her, of course."

"You're asking me to look out for her without looking. I'm just a little confused on how you propose I go about doing that."

"That's why we have sentinels, isn't it? Is it not enough to rely on their judgement?"

Merek sighed roughly through his nose and looked away.

"I suppose. I just...can't help but worry. She has no defenses at all. What if he—"

"If such a thing happens, the both of us will know of it immediately," Lochlan stated. Merek was quiet. Picking up on the Captain's uncertainty, Lochlan lulled the tone of his voice to something a bit more serious. "—And both of us will be there to help her. Yes?" He quirked a brow when they crossed gazes, but Merek was yet to be fully convinced. "It's no different from usual, Merek. I understand your lack of experience with humans, but I don't want anyone scaring her off unnecessarily. Is that understood? She's to be his wife, remember?"

There was reluctance, but Merek eventually did reply, "Yes, My Lord. I understand."

"Good. So you should be seeing this as a good thing, yes?" he asked, placing both hands on his hips. "I certainly do. It's day two and they're already on their first date." The chipper upturn was back in Lochlan's voice. Merek stood a little stiffly as he tried to invoke some of it.

"Right…I suppose...I just didn't realize they were meant to have any actual relationship."

Lochlan arched a brow.

"That's odd. You sounded very supportive of it at dinner."

Merek peered over shrewdly.

"I was being polite," he said, then glanced away again. "I thought you were joking when you said the King was sending a human. And, like you said, I didn't want to _scare her off_ like everyone else at that table was doing. Forgive my impudence, but...this entire thing screams of farce."

There was a moment of pause after that. It was just long enough for Merek to peer over again. Lochlan was staring out at the treeline. His expression was steel.

"It's not," he said, then turned a sharpened side eye in Merek's direction. "Her humanity has no bearing on anything. And, actually, it is my hope that she will succeed where we have all failed. I think...she could be very good for him. So please, have a little faith. Hm?"

Merek held Lochlan's stare and dissected it for all it was worth. He was still skeptical, but—

"Well, if such words are coming from you, I guess I have no choice but to accept them."

"That's the spirit," Lochlan said and suddenly slapped him heartily across the back —and, just like that, his original sense of cheer returned. Merek sighed. He didn't expect Lochlan, of all people, to be taking this so nonchalantly. He was usually very preemptive when it came to the Prince. But...he was the boss. Hopefully he knew what he was doing… "Oh —and would you look at that," Lochlan said, slowly lowering his arm to his side and distracting Merek from his brooding. He followed Lochlan's gaze as it fixed on something in the courtyard, and together they spied on the couple in question exiting the forest —arm in arm. "Your vigilance is about to pay off," Lochlan continued, then took a tiny step to the side. "I admit, I'm feeling a little giddy now. Shall we tempt fate and have ourselves a gander?"

* * *

Sarah looked upwards as she and Jareth exited the forest. The sun was just starting to sink behind a range of hills far to the left of them, so she surmised it was getting close to dinner. _Perfect_ , she thought. She'd skipped out on lunch and was fucking starving. She gripped Jareth's arm as she peered over and bumped shoulders with him.

"Look at that, we made it," she said. Jareth cocked a brow.

"Did you doubt we would?"

"No," she said and glanced away. "I'm just…finding mediocre things very exciting for some reason. I think...I'm a little high strung from all that relaxing."

Her head darted over at the sound of his laughter.

"You don't say?" Jareth said, glancing down at her with a halfcocked grin. She'd been making a fuss out of the stupidest things the whole way back, so his subtext was not lost on her. Sarah stuck out her tongue at him. "Although, that does sound a bit counterintuitive."

She looked away with a shrug.

"I know. I guess...I'm just used to life moving at a faster pace. All this tranquility, lack of a schedule or deadlines or whatever, it's kind of...making me feel a little restless." She tried her best to explain herself without sounding neurotic. She would never call herself a social butterfly, but even humdrum-she had shit to do: work, school, family, a friend or two. She'd never before realized just how much attention her meager little life consumed. And then there was technology. God, how she missed technology.

Jareth's expression softened as he regarded the troubled pout on her lips.

"You'll get used to it."

"I hope so," Sarah replied, then tilted her head. "It is nice getting to sleep in..." She looked ahead and saw the door to the castle was now open, waiting just for them it seemed. They were only thirty or so yards away from it —she was very aware of that for some reason. Sarah stopped walking and turned towards him. "So, what's next on the docket?" she asked. She let go of his arm as he angled towards her. Now that they were no longer moving, the intimate contact seemed...unnecessary. She clasped her hands together instead. "It looks kind of late. Do you maybe...want to get dinner or something?"

She shrugged like it was no big deal, but on the inside she was screaming. What the fuck. Again? Why the hell was she being so pushy? Why was she so incapable of being the aloof one? She would kick herself if she could get away with it. Strong, independent, hard-to-get woman —her ass!

A second or two, maybe more, passed before he responded. He was peering over at the castle. His lack of attention was making her feel awkward. Geez. She didn't realize this was a life or death request. It'd be down right humiliating if he said—

"...No."

Sarah's brow twitched as a tiny jolt of anxiety struck her straight in the gut. Wha? So bluntly? Seriously?

Jareth tore his gaze away from the castle and looked down at her. There was some tension on his brow, but he did look at least somewhat sympathetic.

"My respite...was longer than intended," he explained. "Now I have some things to catch up on."

Despite the surprising strength of her disappointment, Sarah tried her best not to make her next reaction too transparent.

"Oh. Okay," she said, then forced a happy grin. "Raincheck?"

Jareth stared at her in confusion.

"I don't know that term."

"Oh. It means: maybe next time...?" she elaborated, darting her eyes to the side like this wasn't the most awkward fucking moment of her life. Was he really rejecting her right now? After the POSITIVELY PLEASANT afternoon she'd provided for him? Fucking enigma…

Jareth felt his teeth grinding as he watched her try to prevent a myriad of reactions from reaching the surface. He was, however, more perceptive than she realized. Perturbation was something he was far too familiar with, especially when it showed so readily through the knit in her brow and the tension in her, now crossed, arms. He found himself resenting the sympathy he felt towards her, though knew it was probably for the best.

He'd picked up on Lochlan and Merek's presence almost immediately after exiting the forest. Those two idiots were probably within earshot. He could not see them, but knew they had yet to move away. He and Sarah were being watched and, while deep down he knew he should be grateful for the deflection, presently he wanted to rip their fucking heads off.

He watched the way she took a small step away from him as she waited for his response. Watched her avert her eyes from him and avoid the inevitable embarrassment she expected to receive. Watching her lessened the pressure he felt building in the back of his head. Watching her frown made him do the same. He ignored their voyeurs, and held on to this moment instead.

"...sure," he said, holding onto her stare when she impulsively looked up.

Sarah's arms tightened. She wasn't used to feeling insecure like this. She also wasn't used to putting herself out there. Was this how dudes felt trying to ask women out? Wow. She suddenly felt kind of bad for all those frat guys she'd snidely turned down…

When she'd looked up at Jareth, she found his expression was thoroughly unreadable. Was he...just humoring her? Did he mean it? Should she give in to the anxiety by getting defensive and snapping that she didn't want his pity?!

All she knew for sure was that the way the tone of his voice had lowered made her feel extremely awkward.

"Cool," she said, taking a side step before glancing over at the castle. When once she felt too close, now she felt so far away. "So um, are you going back inside the castle?" Jareth responded with the quirk of a brow. "I just...don't have any idea how to get back to my room. Since you're so good at it, could you maybe... _escort_ me there too?"

Sarah groaned internally. Jesus. At this rate, she might as well start carrying around her own shovel. But —no. No, the figurative hole she was presently sinking in was doing just fine digging itself. Hopefully it would swallow her up before she could make an even bigger ass out of herself.

She was distracted by her own stupid behavior, so actually twitched when she heard Jareth respond.

"I...can't."

Sarah angled back guardedly. She may have been projecting, but he looked a little frustrated all of the sudden. His eyes darted towards the door very briefly, then locked on hers.

"Oh? …why not?"

"I don't know where your room is."

Sarah drew back. Well, that was definitely not what she was expecting.

"You don't? Why?" she asked. Jareth's brow furrowed tighter.

"Why would I?"

He looked confused. Sarah now did as well. She glanced around herself conspicuously as she replied, "Be-because we're engaged? Because this is your castle? Because you're supposed to be Mr. Bigshot Goblin King?"

"And?" Jareth asked. "What does that have to do with it?"

Sarah stared. He was deadpan. A figurative _dot dot dot_ was carried on the silence that spread between them. Sarah looked away again, smiling and laughing in spite of herself.

"Ah...nothing, I guess?" she said, then scratched the back of her head dubiously. _Wow. At least he's straight forward..._ She turned towards the castle and waved a flippant hand back in his direction. "Nevermind then….I'll just ask a guard." Then she started on her walk of shame without him. "Good luck on your _work_. I'll...see you around. ...presumably."

She tossed her hand up one more time in a haphazard wave while shaking her head. She had no idea what the hell was happening, but was glad she was finally walking away from it. She did not turn back after that, arguing with her own thoughts as she aimlessly reentered the castle.

* * *

Jareth waited until she was well out of sight before following. He crossed into the hall and stopped, listening intently for the sound of her footsteps to lead her farther and farther into ignorance. After a moment, he glanced to the side —and then his lip snarled.

"You can come out now," he said, then peered in the opposite direction. "The both of you."

A second passed, and then two conspicuous fae stepped out of the shadows.

Lochlan sighed dramatically and placed a hand on his hip.

"Well that was very cold of you. There was no reason to brush her off like that."

Jareth turned his head towards him with a cutting look.

"Is there something you need?"

Lochlan's brow lifted in a look of innocence, and he shrugged.

"Hm? Me? No."

"And you, Captain?" Jareth asked, turning to his right to confront him next. His glare flickered over the man up and down, then he arched a menacing brow. "You look a little pale."

Merek, in a show of confidence, arched a brow right back.

"I'm fine, Your Highness."

Jareth huffed as a sneer creased his face. Feign all he may, but a soldier as green as Merek would never fool him. Poor thing —trying with all his might not to quake in his boots from the mere proximity they shared. It was disappointing, really. He was a pitiful replacement for Fostad.

"Was the show to your satisfaction then?" he asked, forgoing the temptation to toy with the lad and instead slanted his eyes away. He could feel the heat building again. He ignored it.

"Show?" Merek repeated.

"You were watching, yes?" Jareth asked him, taking a step forward and then turning around to speak to them both. "...hiding here so stupidly," he added, his expression hardening as he looked from one to the other.

"Oh come now. It was not our intention to spy," Lochlan said, without a shred of situational awareness. Merek's attention shot over at him. "We were simply walking by and saw the two of you exiting the forest. You can hardly blame us for being curious."

Lochlan carried himself in that jaunty way of his, inclining his head toward Jareth like he was a child to be patronized. Oh, how he hated that.

" _Curious_. Uh huh..."

"Alright. _I_ was concerned," Merek interrupted, feeling uneasy with the way Jareth was regarding Lochlan. Jareth took his time in looking over at him. "Although, it was clearly unjustified. You both look perfectly well. I apologize, Your Highness," he said, then bowed in deference. Jareth arched a brow.

"Is that all, then?"

Merek straightened but wasn't sure how to respond. He'd interacted with the Prince only a handful of times, and loathed to admit he still struggled with how to carry himself. Thankfully, Lochlan was not as careless as he seemed.

"Yes. I believe it is," he said, breaking the tension between Jareth and Merek. Both of them looked over. "Thank you, Captain, for your due diligence. You may be dismissed." He smiled and lowered his head. Merek hesitated, glancing between the two in indecision. After a moment, however, he nodded as well.

"Of course," he said, then bowed again. "Your Highness. My Lord." He spared Jareth one final glance before leaving, sizing him up it would seem. Jareth tried not to laugh.

Lochlan waited until Merek was gone before speaking.

"You know, for a prince, you can be a real boor sometimes."

Jareth turned around sharply in reaction to Lochlan's gall. Of course, he was grinning —giving him that canny, narrowed eye that Jareth could only curl his lip at.

"Please don't glare like that. He was in the right. You were alone together for several hours. You can't blame him for being worried about her."

His tone was placating but only marginally effective. Jareth held his stare for a moment longer and then turned away from him.

"I never said I did."

"Your expression says otherwise," Lochlan said, and stepped around to face him once more. "What were you two doing out there?"

Jareth blinked very slowly. So...annoying.

"Nothing," he said. Lochlan quirked a brow.

"Nothing?"

And now Jareth was glaring again. Now the look was heated and impatient. His jaw tensed as he said, once more, " _Nothing_."

Lochlan, unphased by his trite display, shrugged and turned away from him.

"Hm. Perhaps you picked up with whatever it was that you won't tell me happened yesterday?" he asked, then glanced back with an impish grin. "She looked in fine spirits. You could still join her for dinner, you know."

"Why do you care?" Jareth snapped. Gods, this mood of his was grating. It was just like the previous day. The man became downright giddy when it came to his and Sarah's _relationship_. _Heh_ —not even in the refuge of his mind could he string those words together without derision.

Lochlan gave him a very empathetic look.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked. Jareth sneered.

" _Tch_." He looked away and shook his head incredulously. This conversation was asinine. He should just leave—

"I am surprised though," Lochlan continued. "I didn't realize you were so interested in her."

Jareth paused his musing as one brow shot up.

"You're awfully presumptuous."

"I am," Lochlan said, then steepled his hands together before gesturing towards the outdoors. "It's just so often that I see you taking long walks with anything other than your dour disposition —and I do believe I saw you smiling."

"You're annoying," Jareth said, and turned again as if to leave. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Lochlan. She followed me, so I humored her. Besides, aren't you the one who set this whole thing up? It would reflect very poorly on you should I not at least show courtesy."

He sounded agitated as he spoke, biting down on that last word as he forcibly adjusted the cuffs of his gloves. To anyone else, that tone alone may have been a warning. However, curiously, it was not. Lochlan had been closely watching all the while and, despite his numerous provocations, the markings around Jareth's eyes were still as dull as the floor tile. Interesting.

"So this is out of consideration for me, then?" Lochlan asked, seeing fit to push his luck a little further. "Is that necklace for me too?"

Jareth twitched —reflexively looking down in a clear sign that he'd forgotten all about _that_. Lochlan's smile widened. Was that a look of embarrassment he just saw? Oh, he was just so happy.

Jareth did not respond. Lochlan did not need him to.

"No, I thought not," he said, openly reveling in the discomfort this was surely causing. Jareth growled and stormed away. Lochlan readily followed. "Where are you going?"

"Away."

"Oh, don't be like that."

Lochlan followed him a few more paces but quickly deflated as he realized Jareth would not humor him for much longer. With a sigh, Lochlan came to a halt. "She came here of her own free will, you know," he called out. Jareth paused. "She's here because she wants to be."

His tone was dispassionate. Jareth turned and glared back at him.

"As if that matters," he said, and took a step forward.

Then he stopped.

He caught himself.

Lochlan watched Jareth's hands fist as he stood there in peculiar silence. Then, with a discernible amount of tension, he turned back and slowly lifted his gaze to lock with Lochlan's. When he spoke, the tone of his voice was lowered. Guarded.

"You did not tell her about me," he said. Lochlan frowned.

"No."

"Why?"

"That's your business."

Jareth huffed and turned back around. Lochlan caught sight of a nasty smile on his face while he did so. Jareth closed his eyes to compose himself. He took a long breath before he said, "Daring, aren't you? You've led a lamb to the slaughter —but still you have the gall to stand here before me and say she is willing?" He did not expect a response to that question, though turned back to cast Lochlan the sliver of a glare. "And here they say _I_ am wicked."

Lochlan's frown deepened. Now he looked disappointed.

"She didn't have to stay here," he said, very calmly. "You could have told her no."

One of Jareth's eyes twitched, but the effort was not enough to repress the shadow that bloomed around it. Lochlan tilted his head curiously as he watched it happen. Jareth gritted his teeth and turned away to conceal it.

"No…" he said through a tight jaw. "I couldn't."


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

**Chapter 9, Corridor**

* * *

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Lochlan waited a beat before opening the door. He had a scowl on his face, one that twisted as his hand slowly turned the handle.

It'd been less than a day since they'd last spoken. Less than a day, and the sentinels were now on watch level two. Normally that would mean nothing, t'was par for the course, but present circumstances were making it hard to remain objective. Jareth wasn't exactly in the best of moods when last they'd met...He hated to think his curiosity had triggered a genuine fit.

The door creaked open by the push of his hand, though that was the only sound to greet him. He looked from one end of the room to the other, then stepped inside.

He was sitting behind a desk. Sitting with his head lowered towards the tabletop with an arm curled protectively around a book. The shades on the windows had been drawn. Whatever light that managed to break through the seams was all that lit the room. Lochlan's scowl turned into a frown. Oh dear.

He approached and observed in silence. Jareth did not acknowledge him, only continued to draw one horizontal line after another down the length of a page in the book.

"Are you alright?" Lochlan asked. Jareth was silent. "...is it bad?"

There was no falter in the repetition of Jareth's movements. None at all.

Lochlan felt his cheek tightening in a wince.

"How long?" he asked as his eyes lowered to the notebook. The lines were drawn so closely together that the image looked like one solid shape, and the force of Jareth's hand...left deep indentations in the paper.

Lochlan was not given an answer to that question, not that he expected one. He stood in silence as the mood of the room grew heavier.

The sound of Jareth turning the page came as a loud scrape that should not have been so jarring. Lochlan blinked out of his daze and swallowed.

"It wasn't because of our conversation, was it? I...apologize if it was. You know I would never—"

The sound of his voice was cut short by the sudden slamming shut of the book. Lochlan's attention darted to Jareth's hand clawing over the cover just as he finally lifted his head.

The skin around his eyes was black. The whites of his eyes brightened and livid by the contrast. Lochlan watched a moment of strain twitch each corner as he drew back in his seat.

"What do you want?" Jareth asked, turning his chair away from the desk.

"To check in on you," Lochlan replied. Jareth closed his eyes as his ears flexed in discomfort.

"So doting," he said, facetiously, then stood from the chair. Lochlan took a step back.

"Could you answer even just one of my questions?"

Jareth paused, then snapped the pencil he held before tossing it away.

"And appease that self-serving conscience of yours? _Verily_ ," Jareth replied, shooting him a sharp side eye as he walked away. Lochlan, if it were at all possible, looked even more pitiful with his eyes now cast on his back. Jareth stopped mid-step and stretched his neck. "Take a breath, Lochlan. You bear no responsibility here —I felt it this morning."

Lochlan's brow furrowed, but he said nothing right away. There was a hunch in Jareth's shoulders, like he was carrying a literal weight there. What a pity.

"What was the trigger?" he asked. Jareth glanced back with a halfcocked grin.

"Who knows?" he replied, then shrugged. "Dreams of folly, perhaps." He rolled his eyes, but the gesture was inadvertently painful. He grimaced as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Lochlan took a step towards him.

"So it was spontaneous then? Again?"

That word, _again_ , was unnecessary. It grated against Jareth's ears like claws. Spontaneous episodes had been coming on _again_ and _again,_ _more_ and _more_ often —but they both knew that. Jareth's head twisted as the claw in his ear dug in a little deeper…

"If it's that bad, you should go to the dungeons," he heard Lochlan say.

Jareth snarled.

"I know my limits," he said with a bite. Lochlan resisted the urge to reach out.

"I can go with you, if you'd like."

And now Jareth laughed. It was a wicked sound. Misplaced and yet so fitting in this dark, decrepit place.

"Carry on, love. _I'm fine_."

He spoke with his usual cadence, but the tension in his posture was irrefutable. Lochlan sighed and reached back for the book. As he walked past Jareth, he forced it into his hands.

"I do hope so. There are more _delicate_ matters to consider now," he said, giving him a very shrewd eye as he passed. "—you know, like the one you've sworn to marry?" Meaning hit its mark and Lochlan glanced away, sighing very softly again before heading for the exit. Jareth gripped the book tight in hand. "More sketchbooks arrived with the last shipment. I've stocked them in those cabinets there, if you need them," he added on. Then, concealing a very grave look, slipped quietly out the door.

* * *

Sarah awoke to a nest of her own hair piled upon her face. She blew a puff of air up into it before pushing it all away with her hands. The morning light seemed particularly bright today. She winced as she rolled over onto her pillow.

She starfished across the uneven mass of blanket and pillows scattered around her bed, and gradually waited for the haze to clear. She'd stayed up kind of late last night —but doing what, she had no idea. Staring into the wallpaper, she supposed.

She sighed as she sat up and rubbed away the sleep from her eyes. It was quiet, peaceful, but far too glowy for early morning. She glanced over and saw the clock struck eleven.

Damn. She must have really been tired. But, actually, this might work out better for her. Now she didn't have to figure out what the hell she was going to do with herself until lunch.

She hopped out of bed and headed for the shower. Big news, World! Sarah Williams had _plans_ today.

She'd explored the left. She'd explored the right. She'd explored outside. And now, finally, it was time to explore the town.

Lunch with her friends was long overdue. It had to be...gosh, going on nine months since she'd last seen them? She felt guilty for keeping out of touch for so long, but wouldn't they be so excited to see her?!

Yeah!

Maybe?

She hoped so anyway.

Truth be told, this little get-together was a totally one-sided affair. She wasn't even sure how to find them, frankly, let alone able to check ahead to see if they would even be home. Oh well. T'was an _adventure!_ was it not?

Hopefully Captain Merek would pull through. She'd been fully prepared to lose herself within the labyrinth again. But, as it turned out, the people controlling this place actually knew a thing or two about it —or so they said. She'd find out soon enough, anyway.

* * *

Dinner the previous night was business as usual. Sarah was sitting quietly and politely while glancing about the rest of the table. They had each given her a courteous greeting but, just like before, did not seem particularly interested in getting to know her.

That was fine. She'd rather observe them anyway.

Greta was going on about some goblin antics, waving her hands around and making everyone within arm's reach flinch. Merek teased her, while Bastian came to her defense. Dermot chuckled but sucked in his lips after catching the look of scolding Madam Miri was giving him. Lochlan was late. Sarah found that interesting.

When he finally arrived, everyone stopped what they were doing to welcome him.

"About time, Leche. You nearly missed dinner," Merek said. Lochlan shrugged as he took his seat.

"Alas, some of us have actual responsibilities," he responded playfully, then glanced Sarah's way as he unfolded his napkin and placed it over his lap. "Good evening, Miss Williams."

"Um, good evening," she said, and realized the primary reason he'd singled her out was because she had been staring at him. She blinked and looked away. God, was she really just that bored?

"How was your day? I have not gotten to see you at all. I found it a bit distressing," he said. Sarah averted her eyes.

"It was fine. Nothing to worry about."

She was too busy trying to be nonchalant, and thus didn't see the dialogue that passed between the locked side eyes of Lochlan and Merek.

"A relief," he said, observing her carefully. "So, what did you do today? Come across anything...interesting?"

There was inflection in that question. Sarah slowly pulled the fork from her mouth.

"Ah...I guess. I explored the castle some more….then went outside for a bit—"

" _*Gasp*_ Outside? By yourself? Did you really?" Greta asked, stealing everyone's attention with her fervor. Sarah glanced down the table and found that every single one of them was looking back at her.

"Yeah? I still don't get what the big deal is. The new season is really pretty," she said, then leaned back in her seat. "If not a little unkempt...is there a groundskeeper here?" she asked, directing the question to any of the four men sitting across from her. All eyes turned to Dermot.

"I...suppose that would fall under my jurisdiction," he said, awkwardly, and ran a hand through his hair. It was a rich brown color, curly but glossy, and pulled back in a low ponytail. "I must admit, Mistress, the state of the lawn has taken less priority over other matters."

"Hm…"

Sarah's ominous hum was enough to cause visible tension in him, which (while initially confusing to her) was a confirmation that her pending position actually did grant her some authority here. Oh —well that could be fun.

Curious to test this influence of hers, she leaned back in her seat and crossed her legs.

"I see. Would it be too much trouble to ask you to spare a hand anyway? It's a shame to see all those lovely fixtures crumbling like that."

Her voice raised an octave. Turned light and girlish. Of course, this veneer was meant to fool no one. Dermot gave her a twitchy grin as he bowed his head.

"Of course, Mistress."

"I'd like to help out as well," she added on, trailing a finger along the rim of the table. "Seems like a fun hobby."

She was very careful not to phrase those words as a request. Which, from the little tick of confusion that cocked Dermot's head in reaction, was apparently the right move. He did not respond right away, his mouth opening slowly like this was a situation he'd never been in before.

"Ah...of course? Whatever you wish," he said.

Sarah grinned. If he were a dog, she might have patted him on the head—

"Do you enjoy gardening, Mistress?" Arlyn asked. Sarah looked around Miri and Sirene to face her.

"I don't know. I've never done it before."

"I used to help my mother in the garden," June replied, staring down at her plate as she pushed around her peas. "She found it very relaxing."

"And how did you find it, June?" asked Talia. There was some sarcasm there. Sarah watched June's nose crinkle.

"Dirty."

"Well I think it sounds fun," Greta interjected, placing both hands flat on the table as she turned and leaned over to get a good look at Sarah. "May we join you, Mistress?"

Sarah blinked.

"Um...yeah?"

"We don't mean to be presumptuous," Sirene piped in —perhaps misinterpreting Sarah's surprised expression as one of reluctance. Sarah looked over at her. "—but it would be a nice change of pace. On that I think we can all agree...only if you will have us, of course."

She dipped her head respectfully and with a smile. Sarah pursed her lips as she gradually leaned back in her seat. Well damn. She wasn't really hoping for this to become a social activity, but she'd come off as rather uppity to tell them _no_ now, wouldn't she?

"Ah...yeah. Definitely. Whatever you guys want."

"Oh goody!" Greta squealed, clapping her hands together as she fidgeted in her seat. Talia crossed her arms and took her wine cup with her as she slouched back in her chair.

" _Tch_. Look at you, bouncing in your seat over playing in the dirt? You should see yourself right now," she chided. Greta stopped immediately.

"What are you scowling for, Talia?" Captain Merek was quick to retort. Everyone's attention shifted to him. "Are you not even more excited? Playing in the dirt should be right up your alley, shouldn't it?"

Talia scowled. Actually, no, the expression she directed at him was something far more nasty and potentially fatal. Sarah's eyes veered away from it on reflex.

"Oh sod off—"

"Talia—" Miri suddenly interrupted. Her voice was raised. Hard. Every single person at that table deferred to it. After a second of silence, she inhaled sharply through her nose and turned her glare onto Merek. "Captain, your candor is not much appreciated. Please speak to my ladies with more respect."

Whether or not Merek took the scolding seriously was impossible to tell. Sarah watched as one of his eyebrows twitched before angling his head down.

"Of course. Forgive me, Madam."

Oh no. were things about to get awkward?

"Well!" Lochlan proclaimed, answering Sarah's thoughts by shredding clear through the impending tension right in the nick of time. And now they all turned to look at him. "—since it seems like the whole castle is getting in on it, why don't we make it a proper event?"

"Huh?" Sarah replied. He was smiling. Looked so freaking excited. What the hell kind of wavelength was he even on? She was still sitting rigidly with her hands tightly clasped in her lap, and she wasn't even the one who'd gotten in trouble!

"Lord Leche, you're not suggesting we throw ourselves a garden party, are you?" Sirene asked, quick on the uptake. Lochlan leaned over the table a little as he gave her a wink.

"Quite right, my dear. It's been a very long time, hasn't it?"

Sarah's brow slowly furrowed.

"A...garden party?"

Lochlan, breaking the apparent flirty link that had formed between him and Sirene, leaned back in his seat and casually resumed his meal.

"If you would allow it. I feel the need to redeem myself. You've been here over two whole days and I have yet to show you a proper welcome," he said, then glanced down the table at the rest of the group. "How about it then? Shall we clean up the lawn and throw our new mistress a little welcome luncheon? Maybe use the opportunity to get to know her a bit? How does that sound?"

"Um…"

"Oh that's a fantastic idea, Lord Leche!" Greta called out, the first in a procession of gratuitous swooning.

"Yes, simply divine!" said Sirene.

"Oh. A party? Really?" muttered Arlyn with a meek smile, who flinched bashfully when Greta then jabbed her with an elbow.

"Aren't you excited, Arlyn? Oh, I can't wait!"

They all began to prattle among themselves, overpowering whatever Talia and June may have said down at the end of the table. Sarah, feeling suddenly very introverted, looked away from them and back at Lochlan. He was, after all, still waiting for her verdict.

"Sure...sounds good," she said.

Lochlan's smile renewed.

"Excellent," he said, then turned his head sharply to the left. "Dermot, how long do you think landscaping will take?"

Dermot paused and lowered his fork.

"To do the whole of the castle grounds? With our equipment? A few months," he said, then spared a moment to think. "But...to ready one courtyard? Just a few days...a week maybe."

"Good," Lochlan replied. "Then we shall schedule our event for immediately after. That will give Cedric some time to plan a menu as well."

"Oh. Um—" Sarah interrupted, impulsively raising an index finger into the air. Lochlan and Dermot turned their attention to her. "If we're inviting people, can the kitchen staff come too? Seems a little unfair they have to stay down there all the time."

They both blinked. For a split second, she worried they were going to tell her no. But, as always, Lochlan's smile turned ever brighter.

"Of course. How considerate, Mistress."

"Hear that, Talia?" Greta said, arching a brow as she turned her head shrewdly. "The kitchen staff is coming."

"What of it?" Talia snapped. Greta shrugged.

"Hm...nothing."

"Should I...invite His Highness?"

There was silence after that. Sarah should have expected it, but still felt awkward with how abruptly it cleared the air. Everyone turned and looked at her. Sarah wondered why the fuck that was such a triggering question.

"Of course," Lochlan said, quick to break that tension as well. Sarah looked across the table at him skeptically. The tone of his voice had softened. When their gazes met, his seemed somehow...eager. "It would be expected."

Sarah's brows knitted in the center once more. That lull just now bothered her. It was like...he was trying to reassure her. She didn't get it.

"Okay…"

The silence among the other dinner guests endured for a few awful seconds, leaving Sarah to wonder if bringing up Jareth had been a mistake. They no longer seemed so excited. That made her sad.

"Do...you really think he'll come?"

Sarah looked up from her plate to lock eyes with Greta. Her expression, surprisingly, was curious.

"I...don't know?" she replied with a little wince, then looked away. "Can't hurt to ask though, right?" No one responded. Sarah tapped a finger against the table. "Oh...speaking of…" she went on, eager to shift topics as she looked over at Miri. "—apparently my dresses are too long. The Prince suggested I ask you to alter them for me."

Miri drew back and blinked, and it was the most physical reaction Sarah had ever seen from her. She looked surprised. Unnecessarily, Sarah thought.

"The Prince said that?" she asked. Sarah arched a brow.

"Yes."

Her response was deadpan, if not guarded. To her, Miri seemed just as nervous as the rest of them —and then the old woman smiled.

Her eyes lowered, and the tension about her changed until it was clear she had never been _nervous_. She was...excited? Sarah felt very confused.

"Hm...very well then," Miri said with a tenderness that Sarah had never before seen her express. She was about to question it when, once again, Greta interrupted.

"So...you speak with His Highness often?" she asked. Sarah's eyes shifted off of Miri.

"Ah...I guess?"

"Did you speak with him today?"

"Yes?"

"Really? When?"

"Um...earlier...outside. We uh...went for a hike."

And now she was being interrogated? Geez. What was up with these people? Were they afraid of him or not? They all had such a weird curiosity when it came to the two of them —like she was dating a freaking circus attraction. Honestly, she was starting to get a little irritated by it.

"A hike?" Greta repeated, then pressed a knuckle to her lip as she settled down in her seat. "Hm...that's so interesting…"

"Is it?"

Sarah almost laughed. She just couldn't help it. Exasperation was building. Though, while Greta failed to realize it, thankfully Sirene did.

"His Highness keeps to himself," she said, making sure to block Greta's profile out of Sarah's view. "We really don't see him very often. So I apologize, on behalf of us all, if the matter seems...sensationalized."

She seemed to mean that. Or maybe it was just her tone of voice that was placating. Regardless, Sarah backed down and chose to let the issue go.

"That's alright…" she said, then pretended to resituate her napkin. "We are getting married though, so...it only makes sense that I should see him?"

And now she sounded insecure. Lochlan's expression softened as he regarded her. Sirene's warmed.

"Indeed," she said, kindly.

"So, you went for a walk in the woods?" Lochlan asked. Sarah peered up. He had a quiet, if not curious, air about him too. "Anything else?"

"Um...not really."

"You shouldn't go in there."

Sarah turned sharply towards the very end of the table, at Bastian, who'd just spoken to her for the first time that night. He was staring at her very intently, but with a kind of hunch in his shoulders. He spoke out like that (to anyone) very rarely, which gave her the impression that he might be shy. Sarah tilted her head as she responded.

"Why?"

Bastian's brow furrowed tightly, and she saw him grip the handle of his steak knife tighter.

"There's bad things in those woods. Things that would eat you right up —or worse."

He looked genuinely worried. Sarah supposed he had a right. He was the game warden. He probably had a better understanding of the dangers untold than most. Sarah set her fork down.

"I guess it's a good thing I had His Highness with me then, isn't it?" she replied. Bastian didn't respond. No, if anything the worry in his expression only worsened.

And it was in that very brief pause that she heard Talia whisper to June, "Supposing His Highness did not do _worse_ to her first."

Sarah twitched. Talia's voice was hushed —but not that hushed. It was obvious she intended herself to be heard. Sarah forced herself to smile and sat straighter in her seat. Was this bitch for real right now?

In perfect stride, Sarah turned her attention away from Bastian to glance, very haughtily, at Talia.

"You say that as if I cannot handle _worse_ ," she said, with a little bite. "Is it because I'm a human?" Talia quirked a smug brow but said nothing. That made Sarah laugh. "God, you have no idea what happened between us, do you? Let me assure you, I am more than capable of handling _him_ ," she said and huffed arrogantly. Then, with that nasty smile well in tow, she glanced back to Bastian. "Thank you for the warning, Bastian, I appreciate you caring for my safety. I will, of course, mind myself wherever —or with whomever— I happen to be."

Bastian, not expecting to be put back in the spotlight, darted his eyes away as he shriveled in his seat.

"O-of course…" he said, staring down and compulsively fiddling with his fork.

Sarah hoped the silence that then followed would be discomforting. Hoped with her entire being that Talia and everyone else at that table was sitting on needles as their minds unraveled with whatever implications might arise from what she'd just said. Of course, such dreams were too grand for her. No, that three second silence might as well have been filled with riotous applause from the way Lochlan was beaming, with so much pride, at the opposite end of the table.

"Well said, Miss Williams!" he suddenly cheered, unnerving her and everyone else with his queer sense of approval. Sarah turned to look at him wide-eyed. "So then, have you any plans for the morrow?"

He'd gone back to eating his meal. Was the only one to do so. Sarah hesitated before responding —needing to rewire some things to keep up with him and his random change in conversation.

"Oh. Um, yeah. Kind of."

"Kind of?"

Sarah scowled. Her temper was about to get the better of her just then and it's sudden departure left her feeling vacant. Perhaps that was something Lochlan had noticed. Maybe that was why he'd called over her attention so forcefully.

He was peering up at her between bites. Sarah blinked as she regained her bearings.

"I was...thinking about going to visit a few friends, actually," she said.

"Oh? And who would those be? I didn't know you already had friends here."

The rest of the table, taking cue from Lochlan, also resumed their meals. Sarah took a deep sip of her wine.

"Yeah. Goblins. The ones I met the last time I was here. I think I mentioned them to you before."

"You're friends with those things?"

This time, surprisingly, it was not Greta who interjected, but June. Sarah peered over reflexively.

"Why shouldn't I be?" she asked. Her eyes, with lingering resentment, slanted towards Talia. "They've proven better company than most."

"Oh, you're lucky then," June replied, lowering her eyes to her lap before gesturing towards Greta. "They tend to behave quite nastily towards this one here."

"Because she provokes them—" said Arlyn.

And now came Greta...

"Oh I do not!"

She started to puff up in her seat, and glared between Arlyn and June. Sarah, realizing June's question was not meant to be offensive, lowered her guard.

"Where will you be going exactly, if I may ask?"

Sarah turned towards Merek. He'd been completely silent since his quip at Talia. He acted so cheerful before, but now looked quite stern.

"Ah...I don't know?" Sarah replied. "In the city, somewhere. I don't know where each of them lives exactly. I thought I'd wander around for a while until I figured it out."

"Well that just won't do," said Miri, very suddenly. Sarah turned her head towards her. "A princess does not wander."

"Oh, I'm not a princess—"

"I agree," said Merek. Sarah's head turned again. "Allow me to locate them for you first, Mistress. I keep very detailed records on all the denizens on this island, so it shouldn't take long. Speak with me after dinner, yes?"

Sarah hesitated. She wasn't expecting them to want to involve themselves in her business.

"Oh. Okay. Thank you."

They all went back to eating their dinner after that. Eventually, the goblins came and took their plates in exchange for desert. Chocolate parfait was the night's delicacy. Sarah just stared at hers for a minute. Jesus. Between the basket of cream puffs, the maple syrup drenched French toast, and that raspberry tart, Cedric was sure to give her diabetes by week's end. Her glycemic index was screaming.

"Well, Dermot, what say you?" asked Lochlan. "Shall the ladies convene with you at the south entrance bright and early?"

"No. No, that's unnecessary," Dermot replied. Sarah noticed she was the only one hesitating to eat. "The boys and I will need a few days to do all the heavy lifting. Such work is not fit for a lady—"

"I don't mind," Sarah said, impulsively. Dermot glanced up in surprise.

"Even still," he replied, then looked away from her dismissively. "—such toiling can be dangerous, and I'd rather not place you in such situations."

"Dangerous how?" Sarah asked. He wasn't about to get all, _women belong in the kitchen,_ was he? She could feel herself puffing up already.

"Tearing down trees. Removing boulders. Leveling the ground. Replacing broken and rusted pipework for the fountains. Etcetera," Dermot said plainly. Sarah deflated.

"Oh. Right."

"Once the ground is dug, and the beds ready to be seeded and plotted, I will call for you. How does that sound?" he asked, his tone perking up in a way that she found a little condescending. She felt her lips pursing in response.

"That's fine, I guess."

"Thank you."

He wasn't looking at her. That was probably a good thing from the way her own look was cutting into him. Still, it was generally pointless. Lochlan, with a wide set smile, raised his arm and clasped Dermot tightly on the shoulder.

"Excellent," he said, and shook him a little. Dermot peered over in annoyance. "This is going to be fun."

* * *

And so here she was, now with _two_ indefinite plans for the future. A garden party sounded...kind of awful, actually, but she would force herself to be optimistic. Her more pressing concern now, however, was getting her lazy butt down to the kitchens. It was eleven-forty-five by the time she was finally dressed and ready. She hoped she'd make it down there in time to beat the lunch rush—

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Sarah paused in her fussing and scampered over to the door. Her brow was twisted as she opened it, her gaze landing, with inadvertent scrutiny, on Lochlan.

"Hey," she said, giving him a blatant once over.

"Good morning, Sarah," he said, oh so cheerfully. "May I come in?"

Sarah stepped back from the threshold and opened the door.

"Yeah, of course. What's up?"

"Oh...the usual. Nothing particularly interesting. I just wanted to check in with you before starting my rounds," he said rather conspicuously. Sarah eyed him carefully. He looked like his carefree self, but there was a little strain to the way he spoke —like he was anxious.

"Okay…"

"Are you still planning to search out your friends today?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah. Or...I was going to try to anyway. I'm still waiting to hear from Merek." —not that it mattered. She was determined to go into that city blind if it meant whittling away a few extra hours. Though...she supposed having a heading would be nice too.

"That's good..." Lochlan replied as his eyes lowered. "I actually spoke with the captain earlier this morning. I believe he has some results to share with you."

"Oh yeah? That's awesome. I guess I'll...wait for his call?"

"Quite," Lochlan said and smiled. "He'll find you when he's free."

"Okay," Sarah replied, and then...silence. He just stood there looking awkward. "Was there...anything else?" she asked.

"Actually...yes," he said and winced a little. Sarah looked at him questioningly. "There is something I wanted to tell you. I...am glad to hear you're venturing away from the castle today." That nervous strain he'd arrived with was back, with vehemence it seemed, working its way into the creases in his eye and the stiff way he carried himself. Sarah drew back from him.

"Why?"

Lochlan's eyes averted and he clasped his hands behind his back.

"Jareth was...in a bit of a mood this morning," he said. Sarah frowned. "I came to warn you of it. It's best you avoid him for now."

Sarah angled a foot in his direction and crossed her arms defensively.

"A mood?" she repeated. "Like one of the _moods_ you warned me about on the boat?"

Lochlan nodded.

Sarah's expression became more disconcerted.

"Why is he in a _mood_?" she asked. There was some sarcasm molding that word. Lochlan shrugged.

"It happens."

"Mhm." An index finger tapped against her arm, and a hip jutted out to the side as her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "You seem a little flustered. It's not something serious, is it?" she asked.

Lochlan, testing that bold front of hers, stared her dead in the eye for a long second.

"Nothing...out of the ordinary," he said in a much more neutral tone. "But I do want you to be careful. Remember what I said?"

"You mean about Jareth being prone to violence and that his fits are not always his fault?" Sarah replied. Lochlan cracked a small smile.

"Yes. That."

Sarah kept her eyes on him, feeling a little on edge by his sudden aloofness.

"...yes. I remember."

"Good. On that note, I would like for you to keep a guard with you when you leave your room today."

He said that plainly. Like the tension she'd just been feeling from him had been in her head all along. It unnerved her a little. She just couldn't get a proper read on this guy.

"Okay...are you sure it's nothing serious? An armed escort seems kind of...a lot."

"I am your guardian," Lochlan said, placing a genteel hand to his heart. "It's my job to be a little overprotective." Sarah stared at him with a frown, conveying much uncertainty. Lochlan picked up on these feelings and forced himself to smile. "But don't worry. Everything will be fine."

And that was it. He had nothing more to say, and somehow she knew it. For a split second, she thought he might actually tell her something, but the cleverly disguised dismissal in his tone let her know clear as day that she'd just hit a wall. He did, however, look at her much more seriously. Sarah regarded that stare of his, and then her brow slowly drew together.

"Okay...I'll keep an eye out for him, I guess," she said. Lochlan's mouth twitched in a small smile of reassurance, but it was hardly convincing.

"Thank you," he said and inclined his head towards her. "And...if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to fetch you for dinner tonight as well." He kept his eyes on the floor as he said that—lest he give anything away, she inferred.

"Alright?" she replied, turning her (now slightly bewildered) expression away from him —half wondering (if Jareth was supposedly _so dangerous_ right now) why it wouldn't be better to just take her meal in her room.

 _Maybe he's indisposed right now_ , she thought. _Maybe Lochlan has him strung up in chains somewhere_ …

"Excellent. I'll see you at eight," Lochlan said and, to her surprise, made a quick exit. Sarah stared after him as he bowed and then promptly shut the door behind him, her suspicions now confirmed that he was in a hurry to get somewhere. Did it have to do with Jareth?

She pondered that question, along with a million others, as she walked down to the kitchens. Like a good little girl, she followed a guard —trying not to think too deeply about the observation that there were noticeably more of them lining the halls than usual.

She opened the door quite hastily, nearly bashing her empty basket against the poor, unsuspecting head of a goblin.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she said, and, again, the sound of an unfamiliar voice brought the well orchestrated mania of the kitchen to a grinding halt. Sarah looked up. Cedric, standing with his back to her, turned around and smiled widely.

"Miss Williams! You're back!" he said, wiping his hands off on a towel which he kept tucked into his apron. Sarah shut the door quietly behind her.

"Indeed I am," she said and held up the basket. "I finished those pastries. Figured I'd return your basket."

Cedric, with a nod of his chin, gestured for one of the goblins to take it from Sarah's grasp. The goblin bowed as she handed it over before scurrying away.

"How thoughtful," Cedric said, waving his hand at her in a _come hither_ motion as he directed her to sit at the table. "Though you could have always passed it onto a goblin," he added.

"Yeah, I know. But I have a favor to ask of you too."

"You do? Already?" Cedric asked teasingly. Sarah stifled a laugh as she watched him move around the table to sit across from her. "My, what an honor. Whatever, in this great wide world, can _I_ do for _you_ , Mistress?" He laced his fingers together and laid his elbows atop the table. The way he smiled at her seemed a little flirty, she thought. Hm. Maybe he was just in a good mood.

"I was wondering if you could make something for me —well, not necessarily you, personally— and only if you're not too busy," she said hastily, her eyes darting around the bustling fae seeming to gain vehemence with every passing second. "I know I came at kind of the worst possible time…"

"Nonsense," Cedric exclaimed, waving a dramatic hand up in the air. "The rabble can starve for all I care. _Your_ needs are paramount." The way he pointed at her was the picture of confidence. Sarah couldn't help but crack a grin. "So tell me, what may we prepare for you today?"

Sarah averted her eyes as a finger tapped awkwardly in her lap.

"Ah...some...sandwiches."

Cedric blinked.

"Sandwiches?" he repeated.

Sarah sucked in her lips and let her gaze cross with his.

"Yes. Peanut butter with strawberry jelly —if you have it," she said. And now Cedric was bemused. Sarah looked away again. "And um...some fresh fruit, I guess. Plums would be best. But really, anything will do. Something to drink would be good as well."

She wasn't quite sure why she was feeling so awkward. Maybe it was because she was asking what seemed to be a five star chef to make her toddler food. She hoped he wouldn't be offended. She hoped even more that he wouldn't laugh at her.

"I see. Planning a picnic are we?"

There was amusement in those words. So, he'd opted for laughing at her then? Well, she supposed that was better than pretension. She let her shoulders relax, and looked over at him again.

"...Yeah. Kinda."

Should she bother explaining that her friends' favorite treat had been peanut butter and strawberry sandwiches? That she hoped the nostalgia would serve as a sufficient ice breaker when she told them all about the _good news_?

Cedric's grin etched up into one cheek, creasing the corner of his eye with deep age lines that were actually very flattering. He leaned back in his chair before responding.

"How quaint," he said, then snapped his fingers while glancing to the side. "Emet—" he called out. Sarah's head whipped over immediately.

There was a man washing dishes in the sink at the far end of the room. He'd had his back to them all this time, but now turned to face her. He was very tall, lean but decently built, with a tanned complexion sporting a heavy splatter of freckles across his nose and cheeks. But, most importantly to Sarah and her inner gossip, he had short, curly, flaming _red_ hair.

She cocked a brow as she appraised him. So, this was Talia's secret beau? Hm...Jareth was better.

"Put together a basket for Miss Williams. You heard her, yes?" Cedric told him. Emet bowed his head as he dried off his hands.

"Yes, Chef."

Then Cedric turned to look back at her.

"And how many are we feeding? Is it just you and His Highness?"

"What?" Sarah asked reflexively. She'd been musing bitterly about the quality of Emet's face, and so that word had more bite than she'd have preferred. She blinked and played it off with a smile. "Oh. No. _Heh_. No, I'm planning to meet up with some friends. So, four. Well...one of them could eat enough for four, so...I'll leave the rationing up to you," she prattled, giving him a little wave like she was just feeling oh so naturally casual.

Cedric, not picking up on any of her feminine nuances, grinned happily.

"Very well."

He nodded at Emet, who promptly turned and set about his task. There was a break in the conversation then. Sarah sat very anxiously in her seat as she stared at Cedric.

"Why...did you think it was for His Highness?"

Cedric tilted his head at her, his look one of total transparency.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked, then cocked a brow. "Are you not his bride?"

Sarah's eyes darted away again.

"Well, yeah, but…" and then she trailed off stupidly. "Sorry. I was just caught off guard. Everyone else just gets all tight-assed whenever I bring him up."

Sarah glanced up sharply when she heard him laugh. He looked highly amused now, the emotion reaching up into his eyes as he stared at her.

"Oh, I don't doubt it," he said, then shrugged. "But, as they say, small minds fear that which they do not understand."

Sarah stared at him with latant suspicion —her head making a confused little twitch n' everything.

"And you do?" she asked. One of Cedric's brows arched sharply and his smile waned —ever so subtly.

"It's why I sought out this post."

Sarah's brow slowly furrowed. There was something about the way he was looking at her. Something of significance in the way his tone had calmed as he'd said that. Sarah opened her mouth to question him when a brand new wicker basket was dropped on the table directly between them.

"Here you are, Mistress," Emet said, his head lowered in deference as he took a step back. Sarah looked over at him quickly, caught off guard by how fast he'd prepared all that.

"Thank you, ah —Emet, was it?" she said, with a strained smile. Emet lifted his head, though kept his eyes low.

"Yes, Mistress."

Sarah blinked and sat prettily in her seat.

"Ah. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"And you as well," Emet replied, bowing one more time before taking his leave. Hm, what a well mannered fellow. Now she was even more curious about his relationship with the shrew.

"So, I hear we're to have a garden party," Cedric said, calling back her attention. Sarah bobbed her head to the side.

"Yeah...it just kind of happened," she said. Cedric grinned.

"You sound less than enthused," he replied, staving off a chuckle at the way her eyes widened with dread. "Don't worry, I'll make something so delectable you'll have no choice but to enjoy yourself. And, if that fails, there's always alcohol."

He inclined his head towards her to catch her eye, and then gave her a reassuring wink. Sarah made a little huff, something amused and relieved, and then pursed her lips in a smirk.

"About that," and she gave him a knowing eye. "—I do have something to say about the menu."

"Oh?" Cedric asked, leaning back in his chair once more. "Have you come up with any preferences?"

"Kind of. More of a...general suggestion, really."

"Do tell."

"So, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, because your food is amazing. Actually, how amazing it is is kind of the problem," she said, and paused. Cedric only stared at her quizzically. "I've noticed that a majority of your dishes contain a lot of fat and sugar. And, while those things are very tasty, I, personally, would feel less guilty having some….healthier options strewn in?"

The little upturn in her voice at the tail end of that sentence betrayed her uncertainty —as did the hunch in her shoulders. Clearly she was worried about offending him. Cedric couldn't help but laugh.

" _Ha_. They told me you were a plebeian," he said.

Sarah scrunched her brow.

"Excuse me?"

"I understand if you're intimidated. You're not used to indulging in such exceptional, rich dining —yes?"

Sarah hesitated. Her mouth hung open as she evaluated the misinterpretation happening. Oh. So he thought she was...was what? Feeling shy because her social class had _never permitted her to experience fine cuisine_? —not to say he was wrong in any way, but still. That was definitely not what she meant. Should she draw him a picture of the food pyramid?

In the end, she let it go. He'd gotten a chuckle out of her once again, so...all's well that ends well.

"Ah...yeah, sure," she said, lowering her eyes in a look of bewilderment. Cedric nodded his head.

"Fret not, Mistress. I'll be more considerate in future."

"Thank you," she said, then reached out and grasped the handle of the basket as she stood to her feet. "And...thanks for this, too —and for those pastries before. I ate every single one."

Cedric followed her cue and stood as well.

"Music to my ears, Mistress," he said, then closed his eyes as he dipped his head. "Enjoy your picnic."

* * *

Sarah carried her basket with both hands as she walked down the hall. It was surprisingly heavy. Although, after a quick glance inside at the collection of various fruits, triscuits, bottled juices, and (of course) the sandwiches, she was no longer surprised. She even spied a blanket and some napkins —that was awfully considerate of Emet, she thought.

She walked aimlessly for a bit as she pondered her next move. Lochlan had said Captain Merek would find her when he was free. So...was she supposed to wait around for him?

Maybe she could ask her guard where he was and go to him first. It would know, wouldn't it? Just like it'd known where Jareth was?

She stopped with the intention of making her request, and it was at that very moment that the man in question suddenly rounded the next corner to appear directly in front of her. Sarah looked over at the movement reflexively, catching Merek's quick twitch of surprise to see her standing there as well.

Sarah perked up a little as she turned to face him. Whoa. How convenient.

"Hey. I was just about to go looking for you," she said as he approached. Captain Merek smiled and bowed his head.

"Really? What a coincidence; I just set out to find you as well." He lifted his head and placed a proud hand on his hip. Sarah noted the way the gesture seemed to be more like a stance, and she angled a brow at it in reaction. His grin cocked on one side as he spoke again. "I think you'll be pleased to hear I have good news, Mistress. I believe I've located those goblins of yours."

"Yeah, Lochlan kind of ruined the surprise this morning and told me —but that's great." she replied.

" _Hmph_. Indeed. I have the dwarf's address for you here," Merek said, and reached in his pocket to pull out a slip of paper. He handed it to her, oblivious to the way her brow knit as she glanced over it.

"Thank you," she said, then looked up skeptically. "But...what about the others?"

Merek's hand went back to his hip while the other wove casually about.

"The knight you spoke of, Sir Didymis? You mentioned he was stationed as a Labyrinth patrolman. As such, he sleeps where he falls. It will take...more than a single night to find him," he explained.

Sarah pursed her lips. After the bridge in the bog fell, Didymus had told her his commanding officer assigned him to patrol the labyrinth. She never really thought too much about it, which had her feeling guilty over the fact that, apparently, he no longer had a home —and all because of her. Why didn't Didymus say anything?

Choosing to worry about that later, Sarah shook her head and pressed on.

"I see. But...isn't he part of your unit?" she asked. Didn't officers need to check in? Wasn't it important they know their whereabouts within something as fickle as the labyrinth? She expected, out of the three of them, that Didymus would have been the easiest one to find…

Merek laughed heartily, which was an adjective Sarah did not think should be applicable to this particular point in the conversation. She watched him carry on for a moment, feeling a little vicarious offense at the way he pretended to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye as the outburst faded.

"No. No, forgive me," he said, and quickly composed himself. "The goblin militia is actually a separate entity from the soldiers I manage. They operate with near total independence from us. I've communicated with their general to find your missing knight, but...it is a process."

Sarah frowned. That was strange, wasn't it? Why were there two militias operating on the island? Was it because the goblins were natives? Did that mean that Erewhon forces were occupying the region? It would certainly explain Merek's arrogant reaction just now. Still...so many questions.

"Oh," was all she said, storing this new series of inquiries for a later date. "...and Ludo?"

"I'm told he's taken residence with the dwarf. Perhaps the two of them will have a better idea of where to find the third," said Merek.

"Oh. Okay."

"Yes...I wish I could be of better help to you, but unfortunately there are over a hundred thousand denizens inhabiting that city —and the public records they keep are...well...close to naught. It's a bit of a free for all down there."

Sarah drew back.

"Oh wow, that's a lot of goblins to sort through," she said, glancing down at the scribbles on her piece of paper once more. "I'm surprised you found Hoggle so quickly. Thank you."

Merek placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head.

"I merely do as I am bid, Mistress, but you are most welcome." He spied on her basket and tilted his head as he straightened. "Are you heading out now?"

"Yes. I thought I'd surprise them with lunch," she said and looked down at her basket. "—even if you couldn't find them. Like I said last night, I don't mind wandering the city."

Merek nodded.

"I see...are you going alone?"

"That was the plan."

"May I...make a suggestion?" he asked. Sarah quirked a brow. Why did she get the feeling this was about Jareth again? "Being head of security on the isle, it would give me peace of mind to send you with an escort —a soldier or two. Would that be permissible?"

Yep. Definitely about Jareth.

Sarah turned and glanced over her shoulder at her guard.

"Oh. You mean...those weird statue things?"

She turned back around with a look of puzzlement. It was one aptly reflected on Merek.

"Hm?" and then it clicked. "Oh, you mean the sentinels?" he asked. Sarah nodded with uncertainty. "Gods no. No, those do not operate outside the castle grounds," Merek explained with a tone that implied her presumption was just absolutely ridiculous. "I meant _actual_ soldiers. Hot blooded fae."

"Oh...Okay?" Sarah replied, then shook her head. "Sorry, I'm a little confused. I haven't seen any actual soldiers here yet. I didn't realize the _sentinels_ were something different."

This was also the first time she'd heard the term sentinel. Did she even know what that word meant? Oh god. Come on brain, don't blank now!

"Right. We have not had that talk, have we? Forgive me. I shall explain," Merek continued, to her relief. "My squadrons patrol the island, predominantly along the coast and the exterior of the labyrinth. The castle, however, is overseen by tools called sentinels."

"Tools? So they're not alive?" Sarah asked, recalling the weirdly mechanical nature of said creatures. "What are they exactly? I looked under one's visor and…"

"Oh no, you didn't," Merek said, aghast. Sarah looked up at him sharply. "Ha! I bet that gave you a fright!"

He was laughing at her. Was down right delighted. Sarah scowled a little. Given her a _fright_?

"Yeah…you can say that again," she said, with wide eyes that could not unsee. Oh, what horror, she thought. What kind of sick fuck decided it would be a good idea to give them removable visors?

"Well, you do have my condolences for that, Mistress," Merek said, holding back a chuckle. He waited for her to look over at him again before continuing. "The sentinels are...machines in a sense. They are powered by magic and react only to a very specific threshold of stimuli. We've found things run more smoothly keeping the soldiers outside the walls."

Sarah stared at him confusedly.

"Why?"

"Removes the potential for fae error," he said, but unfortunately Sarah's expression was hardly assuaged. Merek bobbed his head as he mulled over his next words. "Sentient creatures have a certain capacity to...over react. Perhaps even inadvertently make a situation worse. The sentinels, however, are designed to be objective and to only react at the exact moment when they are needed," he explained. Sarah pursed her lips. Interesting logic...

"I see…" she said.

"Yes. It's a much more efficient system."

"So...why have soldiers at all then? Why not replace them all with sentinels?"

"As I said, they are powered by magic. A profound amount of magic, I must say. And they cannot stray too far from its source. Which, in this instance, is the castle," he said. Sarah nodded.

"Gotcha," she said, then shrugged. "Okay, so I guess I'll take some soldiers?" _Hm...I hope that won't be awkward...having Hoggle peer out his window to find two fae soldiers knocking on his door..._

"Thank you, Mistress," Merek said, then offered her his hand. "Please, let me escort you out."

Rather than accept his hand with her own, as was obviously his intention, Sarah instead gave him her basket. His brow twitched in response. It was an odd display of pride, but he grinned all the same.

He showed her the way to the main gate, and all the while she did her best to commit every corner and stairwell to memory. The hallways started looking familiar, those distant memories culminating at the massive metal door Ludo had once forced open.

She wondered how Merek intended to open it, and was promptly answered by the wave of his hand. The doors eased open at an aching pace, causing a low rumble to resonate through the stone walls surrounding them.

Merek placed a mannerly hand to her back and urged her across the threshold. As she entered the outside world, she noticed two fae soldiers standing guard on either side of the door.

"Miss Williams," Merek said, directing her attention at each of the guards. "I present you Private Tern and Private Varin."

The soldiers, looking rather unremarkable in matching armor and helmets, turned and bowed to them both in salute.

"Mistress," they both said. Sarah appraised them quickly, wondering where the hell these two (where any soldiers for that matter) were the day she'd run the labyrinth.

"Hello…"

"Your new directive is to escort the mistress throughout the city," Merek interjected, calling all their attention. "—to wherever she wishes, and bring her back here safely at a time of her choosing."

The soldiers glanced at one another and then back at Merek.

"Yes, Captain."

Merek turned and offered Sarah's basket back to her.

"There," he said, and placed a hand to his hip while tisking a finger at her. "Don't forget, if you're ever in danger, all you have to do is call out our names."

"Your names?" Sarah repeated.

"Yes, mine and Lord Leche's. I understand you know his?"

Sarah's look became a little disconcerted.

"Yeah... So...Merek is your real name?" she asked. This was confusing. Hadn't Lochlan said military officials were given fake names?

"It is one that will suit this purpose, at least," he replied —ominously. Sarah's brow remained twisted.

"Okay…" and she turned away to face the city. Despite her confusion and everything she'd since learned about this place, it looked exactly the same. The recognition was comforting. She glanced back at Merek with a polite smile. "I'll...see you at dinner then?"

"If you will. You are, however, welcome to stay out as long as you'd like." He stared her straight in the eye as he said that, and then spared a glance towards his subordinates. That split second flicker seemed to convey some dialogue, though Sarah had no idea what.

The soldiers on either side of her bowed to him, and he in turn dipped his head to her before turning around and reentering the castle.

Sarah stood awkwardly as the boom of the mighty doors closing shut sent a little gust of wind over the three of them. She gripped her basket with both hands as she peered up at her escorts.

"So um...I have an address," she said and handed one of them (she'd already forgotten who was who) the slip of paper. "Do either of you know where this is?"

The soldier who accepted the paper (whom she would internally dub Varin) read over it quickly and then nodded.

"Yes. It's not far from the capitol square. It will be about a...ten minute walk."

"Oh, wow. Really? Awesome," she said, perking up on her toes. The soldiers stared at her skeptically without response, which caused an awkward strain to form in her smile. Her eyes darted and she gestured with her hand in the direction of the city. "So ah...Lead the way?"

* * *

Sarah stared with a wayward gaze as she walked through the streets of the Goblin City, reliving scenes of chaos and cacophony between the strides of calm, unsuspecting folk. Her escorts kept her tightly wedged between them, so it was kind of awkward to try and get a good look at anything, but the sounds and the smell and the gander she was given were more than enough.

It was quiet. Much like back then (before Jareth sent his guards after her). The streets were surprisingly empty —the goblins she did cross paths with carrying on with everyday tasks: a conversation, a laugh, a walk hand in hand. It was all so tiny and quaint, nothing like the _free for all_ Merek had described.

The soldiers were also quiet and did not seem to have any intention of breaking from it. Sarah kept glancing up at them, fighting off the nagging voice of curiosity at the consistent sight of their stern and forward facing profiles.

Eventually though, the voice won.

"So...do you two always guard the gates?" she asked. That seemed like a decent ice breaker. Better than a quip about the weather, at least. It was Private Varin who responded.

"Not always," he said. Sarah pursed her lips.

"Hm. Does _someone_ always guard the gates?" She looked over at Private Tern next. He shot her a glance from his peripheral.

"Not always."

Sarah frowned.

"Oh."

Well geez, these two were regular monkeys in a barrel, weren't they? And here she thought Jareth was aloof.

"Why do you only patrol the coast and the labyrinth's exterior? Why not the city or its interior?" she asked. That comment from Merek didn't quite make sense to her. If anything, weren't highly populated or dangerous areas the ones that needed the most surveillance?

"Those areas are managed by the goblins," Varin answered. "Whatever goes on among them is none of our concern."

A pair of narrowing eyes joined her pouty lips as she peered up at Varin in scrutiny.

"So...I'm guessing there isn't much interaction between the two species then?" she asked. That seemed doubly odd. From her perception, Jareth, at the least, seemed to have a solid repertoire with the people. But why only him? There were goblins working as servants of course, but...

"Certain denizens are allowed to service the castle. I'm sure you've seen a few of them," said Varin.

Sarah glanced down to watch her basket bounce off her knees as she walked, then hummed in contemplation.

"...His Highness seems to interact with them," she murmured. Both guards were silent. She glanced back up and looked between the two of them. "Why are only certain ones allowed in the castle? Is there a certain criteria or…?"

"Yes," answered Tern. "Not all of them have...earned the privilege."

 _Privilege_. Hm. Why did that sound ominous? Sarah peered slyly upward at Tern with suspicion as she mulled over the possibilities, but only ended up confused.

She was about to ask another question when Varin came to a stop. He gestured at the building out in front of him, which Sarah glanced over at reflexively.

"This should be the residence you're looking for," he said. "Would you like us to enter first?"

Sarah blinked, looking sharply from Varin, to the house, and back again. Oh snap. They were here? This was Hoggle's house? Why the heck was she suddenly nervous?

"What?" she asked, then blinked back her senses. "Oh. Um. No. Actually….please don't think this rude, but would you both mind just...hanging out here for a bit?" she asked, her mouth curling in a wince as she looked between the two of them. "I don't want to alarm them by showing up with soldiers."

Varin and Tern looked at one another, passing along a string of dialogue perfectly discernable by their bewildered expressions. After that brief moment, they looked back at her and bowed their heads.

"As you wish, Mistress."

"Thanks," Sarah said, staring at them with lingering awkwardness as they each took a few steps back to loiter in the street. Sarah felt the urge to apologize, but remembered they'd been standing alone at the castle gates beforehand, so...this was probably an improvement.

She inhaled sharply as she turned around, putting on her best friendly face as she reached out and knocked on the door.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

She waited a few seconds...then a few more...then knocked again.

Again, there was nothing. Sarah felt herself deflating as she considered the possibility that no one was home. It was the middle of the day. Hoggle had a job in pest control. She supposed it made perfect sense for him to be out—

For good measure, she decided to knock one more time.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"What's with all the banging?!" she suddenly heard, the muffled and extremely riled voice of a certain dwarf resonating from beyond the door. Sarah felt her excitement flare up instantly. "Just gimme a second, will ya?! I'm comin, I'm comin!"

She started to laugh as his voice grew louder, as she heard annoyed huffs and puffs and some mystery object being pushed out of the way. All these years, they had always come to her. She'd heard stories of their homes and their lives, but still wondered what it would all actually look like beyond this little door.

The doorknob twisted open with a squeal and was then pulled back abruptly.

Their eyes met. His expression, once puffed up in preparation to scream no doubt, dropped into a gape as his eyes widened. He drew back from the door and just blinked at her.

He struggled to speak, his mouth opening and closing in a futile effort.

"S-s-"

Sarah felt her smile widen to the edges of her face as feelings of relief and utter joy took hold.

"Hey Hoggle," she said and waved.

* * *

She didn't get the chance to say anything else. In a panic, Hoggle reached out and yanked her inside before loudly slamming the door shut. Sarah, lucky she'd bent over just in time to avoid smacking her head on the doorway, turned around to see him hastily closing the curtains and battening down the hatches.

"Um, Hoggle?"

"Shhhh!" he said, continuing to look all around in a fright. "Someone might hear you! Keep your head down."

He waved her off and peaked out the nearest window. No doubt he'd just gotten a glimpse of Merek's soldiers. She should probably say something—

"Dammit. There's guards here, too. Are they lookin for ya? Oh Gods…"

His voice turned a little queasy as he looked away from the window and pressed a hand to his forehead. Be it in bad taste, Sarah couldn't help but laugh.

Hoggle glared straight at her.

"And what are you laughing for, missy? What are you even doing here?! Don't you know where you are?!"

Doing her best to stifle her grin, Sarah found a dining table to the side of her and set down her basket. Hoggle watched her warily, confounded by the calmness of her actions.

"Yes, I know exactly where I am, Hoggle. Please, calm down. Why don't we sit? I'll explain everything."

Hoggle hesitated, looking up into the rafters like there might be spies there. After a moment, Sarah took the initiative and sat in the nearest chair, then gestured for him to join her. She saw his jaw clench nervously as he complied, seeming to walk on pins and needles as he quietly sat down at the table across from her.

"Sarah I...I don't get this. Why are you here? We haven't seen you in so long. We thought —well, we didn't know what to think."

He looked so worried. So fearful. Sarah felt her brow turn down as she regarded him.

"I know. I'm sorry. I should have kept in touch, but...things just got...complicated." She looked away from him with a tight expression at the end, clutching her hands in her lap in a show of insecurity. Hoggle recognized that look. He felt his panic fade, if only for a moment, as he frowned in kind.

"With your dad, you mean?"

Sarah glanced back sharply, then down into her lap.

"Yeah."

"You told us he was sick the last we saw you. Did somethin happen?"

Sarah watched her hands wring before closing her eyes to compose herself.

"Yes...he got worse," she said and looked back up at him. "A lot worse. We all thought he wasn't going to make it. For a while I kind of just...closed down. I know you all must have been worried about me. I'm sorry."

He held her stare and, in the brief silence, she thought maybe he was upset with her. However, the way he sighed through his nose gave her a feeling of relief. His brow softened, and he tilted his head to the side.

"You ain't got nothin to apologize for," he said with a much calmer tone. "I'm more concerned with why it is you're showin up at my house with a frickin picnic basket like you ain't being tailed by faerie soldiers in another damn dimension." —Now that response _was_ berating. Sarah gave an amused huff as she glanced at her lap again, then took a deep breath.

"Yeah...you don't need to worry about those soldiers. But, before I get into all that, do you know where Ludo and Didymus are? I'd like them to be here as well."

Hoggle crossed his arms as he leaned back in his chair.

"I sent Ludo to the market to grab somethin for dinner. He should be back any minute. Didymus stands guard at the north entrance to the labyrinth now. It ain't far. We can go get him if ya want."

He shrugged like it was no big deal, which caught Sarah visibly off guard. She sat up a little straighter and blinked. Oh. Well that was easy.

"Well, actually, let me take care of that. Those soldiers outside? I actually brought them with me. I'm sure they won't mind going to get Didymus."

She stood and walked towards the door without sparing a single glance to the look of abhorrence twisting Hoggle's face. He stared after her unblinking, in total shock it seemed.

"Y-you brought them?" he asked, then lurched to his feet. "What'd ya mean, _you_ brought them?"

His question was ignored as she opened the door and entered the outside world, going straight to the soldiers in question with total confidence. He watched her voice her request, and with a pleasant smile at that, then was drawn in by even more disbelief when the two fae nodded while one went on his way. Sarah turned back around and carried on like all was right in the world. Hoggle thought he may have just lost ten years off his life.

Sarah did her best to keep Hoggle calm during the interlude, thankful that, only after a couple of minutes, Ludo returned from the market. His sheer exuberance to see her provided plenty of distraction —she really did not want to have to tell this story twice, after all. A few minutes after that, there came the polite knock of Sir Didymus at the door. He looked totally bewildered, his reaction upon seeing her a near perfect reflection of Hoggle's. She played it all off with grace, urging them to quiet down and sit so she could get this over with.

"Sarah! Sarah back!" Ludo kept saying with such delight. Hoggle had apparently installed a door large enough for him to fit in, so, thankfully, he was able to join them in the house. They were all gathered around the dining table, Ludo's incessant excitement knocking over a couple chairs and some odd decorations that Hoggle had hanging on the wall.

"Yes, yes. I'm back. It's okay. Calm down, Ludo," Sarah said, patting him gently and urging him to still. As he finally quieted down, Sir Didymus jabbed his scepter to the floor and sat back in his seat.

"I say, what a shock. To see you here? In this of all places, my lady? Truly, I am…"

"Shocked?" Sarah finished, glancing back over her shoulder with a grin. Didymus's bemusement endured.

"Well, yes."

Sarah laughed. This felt like old times. Natural. Comforting. She shook her head as she took her own seat.

"Yeah, you're not the only one," she replied.

"But are you well, fair maiden? How did you come to be here? Why did soldiers from the castle bring me to you? Are you on another quest?" he asked, his voice gaining passion with each question.

"No. No, it's nothing like that," she said, and looked between the three of them. "—and I'm fine. Really." They each stared at her skeptically, even Ludo. Sarah sighed as she reached into her basket. "Please, why don't we all take a moment to calm down and eat, and then we can talk." And then she pulled out a pale, sweet scented triangle and turned it back and forth like some lewd temptation. "Look —I even brought your favorite."

Food, it seemed, had been a smart choice on her part. The subtle smell of strawberries and peanut butter was enough to cut through, at the very least, Ludo's troubled mind. Thanks to him, Didymus and Hoggle let down their guard soon after. She gave them all a moment to relax, and then recounted her tale.

She started at the last time she'd seen them, and ended with her proposal to Jareth...

"Well, you've certainly had yourself a grand adventure, now haven't you?" Didymus said, huffing in awe and maybe even a little tidbit of disappointment. "To think you trekked through the Erewhon forest and crossed the dead sea to get here...and all without us."

"It wasn't exactly an adventure," Sarah replied. "Pretty straight forward, actually. Nothing like what we went through."

"And now you're stuck here? For good?" Hoggle asked. As opposed to Didymus, he sounded nothing less than disappointed. He was still worrying for her, she could tell by the knit in his brows. She looked over at him and tried her best to look strong.

"Hopefully it's for good. It would kind of suck for things to turn out bad," she said. Hoggle glanced away then, and she caught the movement of Didymus glancing back at him. And, actually, even Ludo seemed privy to that moment the dialogue. There was a veil of concern hovering over them —Sarah had to console herself by telling herself it was to be expected.

"And you're marryin _him_? Really?" Hoggle asked. Sarah's expression became a little stern.

"...yes."

There was silence.

"Are you sure this is the fate you want, my lady?" Didymus asked. He shifted about in his seat, looking mildly uncomfortable. Sarah started to frown. "You must know, we will move hill and dale to get you home if you so wish it."

"I know you would Didymus, but it's alright," she said and spared a reassuring squeeze on Ludo's arm. "I told you, I ate the fruit. I can't leave even if I tried. And besides, it was worth it. My dad is getting better. He gets to be with Toby again."

"Yes, but…" Hoggle interjected. Sarah looked over to find him scowling into his lap. "—but now _you_ have to be with _him_."

"Is that really such a bad thing?"

Hoggle glared up.

"It could be," he said, with a flare of passion. "He's no good, that king. I thought ya knew that."

"I've gotten to see him a little since coming here. I don't think he's all that bad anymore," she retorted. Hoggle didn't reply, only stared at her with confoundment and a tight jaw. Sarah looked from him, to Didymus, to Ludo. "Do you guys think I should be worried?"

The awkwardness that spanned across that table was in equal strength to that of her fae companions. Sarah tapped a finger against her leg as she pondered their potential insight. The castle staff had certain rules to operate by, but...maybe her friends were different?

"You can tell me," she said calmly. "Actually, I'd really appreciate it if you told me."

That familiar silence endured for a few more seconds, all three of them turning their eyes away from her. In the end, it was Sir Didymus who spoke up.

"His Majesty has...quite a reputation, my lady."

Sarah tilted her head.

"How so?"

"Well, he's mean, for one," said Hoggle. "—And rude. And bossy. He don't care about nothin and no one." He thrashed his arm out and shook his head in disapproval. Sarah quirked a brow at him.

"Anything else?"

"What'd ya mean, anything else?" he asked, turning that angry look up at her. "You ran that labyrinth. You know what he puts innocent humans like you through. He's a wicked cad and a cheat. No good rat—"

"His soldiers are stationed right outside, you know," she interrupted him, her cheeky nature unable to resist. Hoggle shut up mid-sentence and changed directions.

"I just don't like him," he said and crossed his arms tightly. "He ain't no good for ya, Sarah. No good at all."

"That has yet to be determined," she said, fully anticipating and fully over their combined looks of shock. She sighed as she packed up their lunch basket. "I'm not a little girl anymore, Hoggle. I made the decision to give up my life in the Aboveground and marry him. So, it seems like the best bet for me having a decent future is to try to make the best of that situation —make the best of it with him, you know?" She presented her argument plainly without making eye contact. Hoggle's eyes, once seared to her face, gradually lowered in dispassion.

"Yeah, I guess," he said, having no counter argument. He glanced over at Didymus to receive a look of sympathy. "But I still don't like it. What if he does somethin? What if he gets all scary like he does and hurts ya?" he asked. Sarah paused.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Once more, that insufferable silence was her answer. Sarah closed the lid to the basket and looked between the lot of them intently.

"Hoggle? Didymus?"

She watched them squirm. Watched them struggle to find the conviction to say whatever it was she so desperately wanted to hear. Then, with a gruff noise, Hoggle spoke up again.

"He's got somethin in him. Somethin nasty. It scares most of us, but...the mongrels actually love him for it. Feedin the crazy, I guess. I just...don't want nothin to happen to ya," he said, staring at the edge of the table with his biceps firmly gripped. Sarah felt her brow furrowing—

"Yes. I cannot say I am not worried. T'would break our hearts, fair maiden," added Didymus. Sarah looked over at him, and then at Ludo who nodded in agreement. Her tangle of intrigue and impatience smothered itself then, as she acknowledged that, no matter the reason, they would _always_ worry for her.

"I'll be careful. Alright? That's the best I can offer," she said with a sympathetic shrug. In the end, there was nothing for it. Their admittance didn't add anything new to her profile on Jareth, but the sentiment was sincere. Maybe...she should ask them more directly. "Do you...know anything more about that? About what happens when he gets... _scary_?" They all looked at her confusedly. "I was told he came here to research something. Do you know what?" Again, they were silent, but now the consensus was _no_. Sarah pursed her lips. Hm. "Do you know anything about what goes on in the castle? Anything about what he's up to, at all?"

"Besides bossing us around? Not really," said Hoggle. "He keeps himself holed up most of the time. Only really comes down to mess with us or a runner. More of a bully than a king, if you ask me."

Sarah frowned. That was...very close to her initial perception of him. The way he'd tormented her and his subjects —it was like they were toys. And the state of the castle and the city...it was like he just didn't care. Despite him being the villain in this scenario, she couldn't help but find something...very sad about that.

* * *

It was a little past six when she finally returned to the castle. Daylight was waning, casting a shade of golden light over the city. She was hesitant to leave her friends, but consoled them all with the promise that she would see them again soon.

They were excited of course —if not wary. The subtle tension she regarded on their brows as she departed left her with a feeling of warmth in her chest. It was nice having their support and their concern...she hadn't realized how much she needed it.

The soldiers escorted her back to the castle in silence, then bowed and left her at the door. Sarah gave them a wave and thanked them for their service, and went on her way.

Entering the castle from the main gate triggered a flow of memories once again, compelling her curiosity to relive that time. It was so much more lively back then. So loud. Riotous. Ridiculous. The way echoes of the past traipsed so easily throughout these now empty halls saddened her, leaving her to wonder why things had changed —if they had changed.

Perhaps her memory has been idealized. Maybe the castle had always been this idle. Maybe her adventure here really was just _an unexpected treat._

Did she still remember the way to the throne room? she wondered. Would it look any different after five years?

She pondered which stairwell would take her to it, and then wondered if going on another adventure was wise. Lochlan had _asked_ her to avoid Jareth today...she genuinely didn't think he would do that lightly.

But, whatever was going on, it couldn't be that bad, right? If she was considered safe enough with a magical automaton for a shield? Granted, she had no idea how powerful these things really were...

After a moment of debate, she decided it was probably best not to push her luck and just head straight back for her room. She was a little dusty and wanted to wash up anyway.

She singled out a sentinel and issued her command, and together they walked in silence. For several minutes she just stared at the floor, her eyes vacantly tracing the creases between the floor stones as they moved under foot. The wicker tendrils weaving her basket creaked with the sway of each step —the only sound to be heard all the while.

She was zoning out when the sentinel in front of her suddenly stopped dead. She looked around and recognized that they were not yet in her designated wing of the castle, then drew her brow in confusion. It didn't say anything to her. Only stood there obstructing her view.

She took a step around it to see whatever it was that had impeded them.

And then she froze. Then there was a little hitch in her breath. She gripped the handle of her basket tighter on instinct, though immediately cursed herself for doing so. Was that really her reaction? _Fear?_ No. No, she refused.

She relaxed her grip, along with her tense shoulders, as she stared down at Jareth sitting against the wall just a few paces ahead.

He was on the floor, huddled into himself with his knees bent and his head lowered between them. A black cloak blanketed him almost entirely, entrapping him in a darkness that reflected the grim aura she felt radiating from him. She stared at him in silence as she waited for something to happen. Ten seconds. Twenty. But, strangely...he did not move. He did not speak. Did not look to even be breathing, let alone show the capacity to notice her.

She felt very wary during that silence, entertaining the idea of turning sharply on her heel and finding another way around. _So much for chains_ , she thought, and felt an instinctive urge to call out for Lochlan—

And then she cursed herself again. Those were not her thoughts. That was not her _fear_. She swallowed down the nerves Lochlan and her friends had incepted and debated her course of action. She couldn't see his face, but his arms were crossed over his knees which drew her eye to his hands as they curled in tight fists.

He looked bothered. Upset even. In a _mood_.

She walked towards him with light steps, staring down with a look of sympathy.

"Hey," she said. He was silent. Sarah waited a beat and then tried again. "Why are you out here all alone?"

But again she was met with silence. Sarah frowned. There was absolutely no movement in him whatsoever. For a moment, she really did wonder if he'd stopped breathing.

"What's wrong?"

She hoped the compassion in her tone would elicit some response; but, of course, he gave her nothing. As her frown deepened even more, she sat her basket down and took a seat on the floor beside him.

She didn't bother asking him any more questions. She only sat there, staring out at the wall across from them. A few minutes past, and then Jareth's head slowly turned.

She caught sight of a shadowed eye from her peripheral, but pretended not to notice, and heard the leather of his gloves crinkle as his fists readjusted. Well...at least he wasn't dead.

"Why are you here?" he asked with a very low, downtrodden tone. Sarah's brow twitched in reaction to it, though she tried her best not to show him another frown.

"I live here now, remember?"

She kept herself aloof but pleasant, a veneer she feigned easily as she drew up her knees close to her chest and hugged them, then rested her cheek atop them to turn and look over.

She held her poker face well at what she saw —a single eye, bloodshot, with an iris unnaturally vibrant, glaring straight at her.

"You should leave," he said and did not blink. Sarah felt her brow starting to knit. _There's something in him_ , Hoggle's voice echoed.

"But...you haven't answered any of my questions," she replied, some of her true concern showing through in the subtle pouting of her lips. Jareth's attention immediately focused on them, on the soft, round, delicate flesh…

A tremor coursed through his wrist as his fist tightened even more.

"I don't answer to you," he said, rather harshly, and turned his head away.

This time Sarah did reveal a frown. Maybe playing blissfully ignorant was the wrong thing to do. Hm… Her eyes lowered to the space between them as she thought —and then she did something quite daring.

She reached out and placed a hand over his fist, gently coaxing it to relax. Jareth glared over at her sharply in reaction to the physical contact, but did not immediately retaliate. Sarah did not seem startled by this. In fact, her head was already tilted in curiosity —her eyes on him worried and expectant. He was caught off guard by such a look. Caught off guard and alarmed and—

He felt the beating of his own heart, within that split second, escalate to the point of pain as his stare bore through her.

Sarah took her time, moved slowly, calmly —like she was gentling something feral. According to the opinions of those around her, that probably wasn't far from the truth. Her eyes inspected his face, finally revealed to her by that impulsive reaction of his, and saw that the markings around his eyes were a fierce black that had begun to stretch down the length of it. She remembered seeing them like that once before —after she'd slapped him. Her frown deepened as she pulled her hand away.

"You don't have to answer me," she said very softly, then angled a brow at him. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to stop asking questions."

She gave him her sweetest smile and sat upright. She wouldn't admit it, but the way he'd snapped to attention so quickly from a mere touch had her worrying again. Whatever was going on, she definitely didn't want to trigger something worse. Hm...listen to herself. Maybe Lochlan was right.

But no. He couldn't be. Lochlan and his ominous paranoia couldn't possibly be right, because the harder Sarah tried to maintain eye contact with Jareth, the harder he tried to remove the sight of himself from her completely. The look in his eye was intense but guarded, and the hunch in his shoulders only worsened until he was able to finally break free and turn himself away —like her eyes on him alone were tantamount to shackles. His hands unfisted and slowly moved up into his hair, holding his head in place as he stared, vacantly, straight ahead. And it was like...like he was ashamed. Ashamed she should see him like that...

"Are you sick?" Sarah asked. Jareth's fingers flexed into his scalp, then he slowly peered out his peripheral. She blinked and leaned forward a little, trying to get a better look at him. "You look pretty rough," she added, then tilted her head. "Does your head hurt?"

If he were capable of it, Jareth would have laughed just then. But, as it were, it was all he could do to keep his teeth from grinding.

"Yes," he bit out.

His eyes, turned sharply to the side to watch her, fixated on those delicate lips once again as she hummed with a frown. After a moment, she sat back against the wall and turned away from him.

Curiosity compelled him to lower his guard, physically so by lowering his hands as he turned his head towards her. She was rummaging through a basket. Jareth's brow furrowed very tightly when she suddenly turned back around with a brightened, victorious grin.

She raised her hand to offer him something, but his tunnel vision on her face rendered the object a blur.

"Are you hungry?" she asked. Jareth stared at her fiercely and in silence. "A lot of times, eating helps my headaches go away," she explained, seemingly impervious to his abrasive state, and gestured down at the half a sandwich she held. Jareth's eyes flickered down and up again. "So?"

She stared at him unabashedly. Without fear, or trepidation, or pretense. And...she smiled. She smiled at him like the sight of his face was not the most horrible thing she had ever witnessed, like it was not disgusting, or abominable, or terrifying, or _wrong_. She stared at him in earnest and, for a very brief moment, he no longer felt like all of those things…

The voice screaming in the back of his head withdrew and fell silent, and, in the vacuum her patience provided, he regained the capacity to think.

What the fuck did she just ask him? Was she serious? Did she have any idea how much danger she was in?

Compelled by forces completely foreign to him, Jareth —with a shred of lucidity— achingly leaned himself back against the wall. He lowered his eyes and, tentatively, reached out to accept her offer.

The leg closest to her straightened to the floor, and he turned to look down at the morsel like it was something he'd never encountered before. Sarah watched him study it. Watched his eyes twitch as if struggling to focus —the harsh lines etching down his cheek squirming in a failed effort to retract. She felt very worried for him now. She'd been suspecting there was a connection between those marks and his mood for some time. It seemed she was right.

She waited and analyzed him in silence as they slowly ate together. Truth be hold, she was not hungry at all, but it was important he not feel put on the spot. He did not say anything to her. Did not even cast her a glance. He only stared downward at nothing.

After their snack was finished, Sarah counted to thirty before speaking. He looked a little calmer now. The blue in his eye not as bright.

"Feel any better?" she asked.

He scowled a little, remaining in profile as he stared down at his empty hands.

"A bit," he said, quietly.

Sarah exhaled. She was relieved. He sounded more like himself.

"What were you doing out here?" she asked. Jareth brushed a crumb from his glove, and frowned.

"...meditating."

And now Sarah frowned. That sounded derisive. His expression just then wasn't very nice either. She was skeptical about it, but then remembered that was the same answer he'd given her the day before. A few pieces started falling into place as she pondered: words like _peaceful,_ _quiet,_ and _calm_ seeming to make a lot more sense.

"I think you might get better results sitting in a window," she said, calling back to the night she'd first arrived. Her tone was playful, was just enough to earn his attention. He glanced over to find her grinning at him. "—or on a rock...in the middle of a graveyard. But…" and she casually glanced all around. "I suppose a dimly lit corridor will do just as nicely, too."

There was a ghost of laughter under those words. Her effort to keep the mood light, no doubt. While Jareth knew this was an attempt to handle him, he was surprised to feel it actually worked. The weight holding him down lessened, and he...he wanted her to continue.

Sarah waited for a response, but it seemed like Jareth was now staring through her. She thought his markings may have lessened just a tad, but she couldn't be sure. After a moment, she stretched out her legs and looked down at her lap.

"Is it because of your research?" she asked. Her voice was quiet, but the question was loud. She wasn't the least bit surprised when he did not answer. However, curiosity got the better of her. She tentatively turned and slanted her eyes up at him. "I notice your eyes change…"

Their _eyes_ were locked as she said that. The _eyes_ that stared back still framed in black, and were so very blue and bright and cold and on fire.

The clawed marks creeping from his eyes painted him something sinister. Those marks wretched into the creases of his face when he suddenly grinned.

"Oh, have you now?" he asked, flippantly, and turned away from her. It seemed, in light of her persistence, he no longer cared to keep himself concealed. Instead he stretched his neck and pressed the back of his head against the wall, choosing to stare up at the ceiling as he took in a breath. Sarah watched him. She was relieved that he'd opened up a little, but this was hardly better. It was like he was winded. Barely hanging on. Like each slow blink took him more effort than she could possibly imagine.

"Yes," she said, regarding him carefully. "They're darkest when you're at your most...animated. Am I right?"

She was going out on a limb with this one, because presently he was the exact opposite of animated. She was, however, more insightful than that. Jareth had told her to leave when she'd first approached him. The wise part of her brain warned that she was merely wading within the eye of the storm.

"Yes," Jareth replied. He closed his eyes next and focused —though on what, Sarah was not privy to. He opened them just as he started to speak again. "They serve as a warning. For instance," and he lazily rolled his head towards her. "—you should not be anywhere near me right now."

 _Warning number two,_ the wise voice echoed.

But, because sometimes there were things more important than logic, Sarah held his gaze sternly and, with complete confidence said,

"I'm not afraid of you."

Oh —that look —those words —the highlight on her eye. Jareth regarded them all with something of reluctance and deprecation. She couldn't possibly mean that. She was frightfully naïve. Foolish. Stupid. He wanted to deride her but...couldn't. The only one he spared foul thoughts for was himself. He felt a thump in his chest again, bringing with it a heat that moved straight into his eyes—

Sarah arched a brow and leaned towards him, not at all concerned with the dwindling negative space between them.

"—especially when you look like you might pass out any minute," she tacked on for fun and grinned, resisting the natural urge to reach out and nudge him.

And again he paused. The thump stopped dead. When once her pout incited him, the image of her smile calmed. The look in his eyes softened for one brief moment, and the heat he'd felt building there...vanished.

Now competent enough to realize she was teasing him, Jareth huffed and glanced away.

"So...is that why you meditate?" Sarah asked. "Trying to wrangle in your, as you so put it, more _unsavory_ nature?" This time, Jareth's reaction was instinctive and unguarded —a sharp side eye accompanied by a quirked brow. He looked a little alarmed, like he'd been caught. Sarah noted that _insightful_ reaction duly. "Lochlan told me working with whatever it is you're working with affects you," she said, pressing the advantage. "That it's...taken a toll."

Yes, but what kind of toll? she wondered. What exactly was wrong with him? She didn't remember him being like this before, all those years ago. But, then again, how much time had she actually spent with him back then? The man she'd danced with...was he Jekyll or Hyde?

"Indeed," Jareth said, vaguely. Sarah frowned again. He seemed a little on edge now.

"Does it take a lot of energy? Whatever it is you're doing?"

Despite the red flags and dead ends, Sarah found no reason not to persevere. He seemed more comfortable talking with her now. That had to be a good thing.

Jareth went back to staring at the ceiling.

"Considerably."

Sarah stared. He'd closed his eyes. Now, instead of struggling to blink, it was like he struggled to keep them open. Every movement looked so heavy. She felt...sorry for him.

"Are you tired?" she asked. Jareth let out a shallow breath.

"Yes."

"Would...you like me to leave?"

She waited several seconds, gave him ample time to decide, which was why she found it curious when he said nothing at all. She saw his chest moving, taking slow, conscientious breaths. Sarah's frown gained a furrowed brow as she turned and reached for her basket once more.

She bent her legs under herself as she pulled out the blanket, folded it neatly on her lap, and then turned back to Jareth.

"Well, come on then."

Jareth opened an eye and peered down, his brow twisting in confusion.

"What?"

"Lay down," she clarified. Jareth did not move. Sarah rolled her eyes. "Honestly, you look like death and it's starting to bother me," she went on, then reached out and dared to touch him. She reached behind him to place a hand on each of his shoulders. It was instinctive of her, natural, and not at all regretted even when he noticeably tensed. She squeezed in response, gently coaxing him to obey. She'd brought her face closer to his in the process, playing up the intimacy by looking him straight in the eye and softening the tone of her voice as she said, "Rest for a bit. I don't mind."

Jareth stared at her with a look of bemusement, completely oblivious to the way his body was already leaning towards her. He caught himself, however, and tried his best glare.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. Sarah's hands tightened around his shoulders, and she scowled.

"Why not?"

She held his stare confidently and calmly. He was weighing its sincerity when he caught a whiff of her scent: something floral, sweet and earthy, like she'd been outdoors. Her arms were still around him —holding him in an insistent (and oddly possessive) embrace. He had no idea why...it felt so welcoming.

"I get the feeling the people here aren't particularly generous towards you," Sarah said, her look on him softening as one of her hands moved from his far shoulder to his back. "But...I'm not them." And then she tugged on him. "—so stop your griping and just lay your head down."

Jareth stared at her unblinking as if her words were a profanity he'd never heard before. He hesitated, so thoroughly filled with suspicion that Sarah was honestly starting to feel sad. She never expected to see such a look on him. A look of sheer insecurity and doubt. Her arms, in a gesture of comfort, tightened around his shoulders and urged him down again. He had no idea why he listened.

His eyes lowered as he laid himself on her lap. As he allowed her to guide him and pet him like a child. At first, her audacity frightened him. She had no idea what she was doing. He had no idea what he would do. And her touch...

He let his head rest against the blanket covering her thighs, feeling far too aware of the hand she kept on his shoulder. After a moment that hand moved. It caressed his arm up and down.

He felt himself go rigid against it, but surprisingly the movement was not triggering. It...it pacified him. He felt the tide recede. Felt the pressure behind his eyes lessen. Felt the voice in his head, which had been gaining new fervor as she continued to touch him, fall to mere mumbles once more. He stared out at the wall, but he saw nothing. He felt nothing. He was pleasantly hollow, slow to be filled with the comfort of the blanket against his cheek and the warmth in her hand.

Sarah stared down as she waited for him to relax. She didn't really blame his skepticism. She got the feeling Jareth was a man of pride, and this was not exactly a dignifying position for a king (or prince) to be in. Still, he humored her. He complied. This supposedly _scary_ , _nasty_ thing…

She turned and glanced down the length of his body, then reached over and pulled on his cape, draping it over him like a blanket. He was hiding in it when she'd first seen him, so maybe it would help. She wondered then, with great sadness, why —even in solitude— he felt so ashamed.

The gesture seemed to work and bring him ease. A sense of security. She felt him relax a little.

It was her instinct to pet him, but she resisted. He had flinched every time she touched him, so she wasn't sure whether or not that kind of contact was helpful. But that was okay. She'd been through enough heartache to know that, sometimes, just being there was enough.

"It's okay, Jareth," she said, speaking calmly. "I'm not going anywhere."

She caught the movement of his brow drawing tight but little else. His profile was mostly obscured by hair and out of her view. She didn't see the way his jaw tightened as he stared at the wall. Didn't see the ambivalence that warred across his eyes. He looked almost in pain as he reached out, so tentatively, to place his hand over her leg.

He held it there, with the lightest pressure, as if it was an act he knew he would immediately regret. As if he expected her to recoil from him and run —or worse, shatter. A moment passed. And then two. And...she didn't.

She didn't make a sound, or a move, or do anything at all. She only sat there, breathing slowly with the greatest of ease.

He felt his fingers start to curl as tension built. As he stared, more and more fiercely, at the wall. Something was welling deep inside, something that had his breath quickening and his jaw clenching. The voice inside came back —whispering just shy of his ear. It told him to squeeze. To claw. To slam her against the stone, yank apart her legs, and smother her face with the blanket—

And then something jarred him. Shattered him. Ripped into him so completely a violent shiver threatened to shoot down his spine. He fought it off and stilled instantly, the void he'd been losing to once again replaced by the pattern of the wall. He came back to the world, and that feeling...that merciless, horrible, gut-wrenching, sanctifying feeling...was her touch. A single fingertip...trailing through his hair. It moved slowly. Gently. He felt it reach up and pull back his bangs. Uncover his face. And...he couldn't move. Couldn't stop it. He did not _want_ to stop it. That slight touch...so gentle, and kind. It was a singular point of contact that was so miniscule, so innocent, arbitrary, and insignificant…

The beat of his heart settled as she did it again, adding another fingertip, combing across his scalp in a way that seized every fiber of his being. It was all he could think about. All that he could feel. It was overwhelming, suffocating... _liberating_.

His hand on her thigh relaxed. His breathing fell into a silent rhythm. He closed his eyes and let her be. The voice and the darkness there...were no longer frightening.

Sarah smiled down at Jareth as she lightly stroked his hair. It seemed like laying there was only making him more tense, and she worried that being so self-conscious was maybe making his headache worse. She was hesitant at first, but...didn't know what else to do.

But...the way he reacted was reassuring. The way she'd been able to watch his eyes close as his body finally went lax was sweet. After a moment, she pulled back even more of his bangs to get a better look at him, and dared to trace the contour of those marks over his cheek. He did not react. That was good.

She watched as his breathing went shallow, and knew he'd fallen asleep. She leaned away from him but continued her fondling.

He was clearly exhausted. He'd fallen asleep virtually the moment he let his guard down. She couldn't imagine what had brought him to this state. If it was an effort of physical or mental labor. And it was magic that did this? Why? She wished she knew something, anything, about it. She wanted to help him. She didn't want...to see him like this again.

She sighed as she reflected on her circumstances, as she tried to understand whatever piece of this equation she was missing. Lochlan was serious about her avoiding Jareth today. Merek too. And yet...this was what they were afraid of? A man so drained he could barely keep himself upright?

She hated how alone he seemed —sitting there, dazed, guarded, and closed off. She'd been through turmoil. Perhaps not the same kind as whatever he was experiencing, but going through the ups and downs of her father's illness showed her that the last thing a person needed was to be left alone. To be avoided. To be judged.

She was suddenly angry at all of them for making him feel like he couldn't reach out. Making him feel like he _unnerved_ them and it was better to just stay away. She had no idea why they were so afraid, but she wasn't. She wouldn't be. The only thing _frightening_ was how much physical effort it had taken him to let himself reach out for her.

She closed her eyes as she _meditated_ —using the silence to calm herself. She had no idea how much time passed, and neither did she care. She'd sit with him as long as it took. She'd spend the whole night there if she had to.

With this conviction, she glanced down at Jareth once again, giving in to lightly trace the edge of his ear. She saw the marks had started to fade. They were now a dark beige and were retracting back to their usual shape. That was good. Hopefully sleeping off these _fits_ was an effective solution for him.

Her eyes turned wayward as she admired him. As she remarked, in silence, how nice it felt to be near—

Her head whipped up at the sound of footsteps and immediately landed on Lochlan.

He had just rounded a corner. Did not look to be paying any attention. This level of ignorance thus provoked him to stop dead with a look of utter shock when he looked up and saw her.

His mouth dropped open and he drew back, blinking repeatedly as he did several double takes. Thinking he was about to say something, Sarah pressed a finger to her lips and gave him a silent _shush_.

Lochlan paused. His mouth was still hanging open. He was clearly feeling dubious, but Sarah was not in the mood to deal with it. She gestured down at Jareth and then made a sleeping sign with her hands.

Lochlan angled his head and just...stood there, processing the scene it seemed. And then, with quick thinking, he raised a hand and drew in the air.

Some fancy, glowing script was left to hover in his wake, and it spelled out the words, _"Are you alright?"_

Sarah nodded and mouthed back, " _Yes_."

Lochlan pursed his lips. The script faded as he looked from her, to Jareth, and back again.

 _"Is he alright?"_ he wrote in next. Again Sarah nodded.

Lochlan let out a breath, one Sarah hadn't realized he'd been holding, and it was a expression of profound relief. Sarah stared at him with hard eyes. Oh, the conversation they were going to have the next time they met…

Lochlan, oblivious to her foul thoughts, seemed to be rejoicing over thoughts of his own as his aura and posture did a complete 180. He looked very happy now. Back to his usual self.

 _"I came to get you for dinner,"_ he wrote. _"Are you hungry?"_

Sarah arched a brow.

" _No. Go away_ ," she mouthed, and shooed him with her hands. Lochlan nodded and stifled a chuckle.

His eyes slanted to Jareth one more time, some thought playing out very strongly behind his eyes, and then he grinned. He lowered his gaze, and made a gallant gesture with his hands as he bowed. Sarah watched him turn swiftly on his heel. He took a few steps, paused to give them one last look, and then —with a sneaky little smile— shook his head as he walked away.

* * *

Jareth opened his eyes gradually. The void faded, replaced with the pattern of cut blocks which formed the wall. He blinked at it a couple of times. That's right. He'd fallen asleep…

He closed his eyes and let himself linger. He felt warm. Safe. That didn't happen very often.

The threads of the blanket scratched his face, but it was a feeling he was reluctant to give up. It was still soft. Comforting.

Because _she_ was soft and comforting.

Jareth's eyes opened again when he remembered that his pillow was not a pillow.

He shifted, but the effort was weak. His hand still laid lifelessly atop her thigh. As his eyes traced the silhouette of black leather, he watched his fingers squeeze.

And she _was_ soft —delicate.

He shifted once more and felt the weight of her arm draped over his shoulder. Curiously, it too was lifeless. He wondered why she wasn't reacting.

He moved his hand to the floor and leaned up, and, as he did so, her arm slipped limply off of him.

She was asleep. Dead to the world, from the look of it. Jareth tilted his head as he inspected her face, eyes moving from her gently fanned lashes to the subtle part in her lips. Her head was angled down and to the side, her chest moving in slow, shallow breaths.

And she was beautiful. It was impossible to ignore. He felt his jaw tighten as he continued to stare, to draw in ever closer. She was so vulnerable right now…

He was an idiot for keeping her here, he told himself. An idiot for giving in to even one urge—

A lock of hair fell over her face. He could not help but reach out to brush it away.

The feeling of his thumb against her cheek stirred her, but he was able to withdraw before she noticed it. Her eyebrows knitted in the center, and those distracting lips puckered in discomfort. He leaned away from her as she made a begrudged murmur before opening her eyes. They blinked quickly and then focused directly on him.

He was not prepared for how readily she smiled.

"Oh. Hey," she said and shifted about. Jareth leaned back a little more. She looked confused as she tried to orient herself. "Did...I fall asleep too?" she asked and glanced down the hall. "It got dark out. Guess I did. Huh."

She pushed her hair behind her ear and turned back to Jareth. He had no idea why he was still just staring.

He watched her eyes flicker all around his face, and then she smiled again.

"Your eyes look a lot better," she said and reached up to caress his cheek. "That's good."

Jareth tensed against the contact but did not move. Once again, he was queerly unable to do so. He merely watched her head tilt as the tips of her fingers traced over where the marks had once been.

Had anyone touched him like that? _Ever?_

"Can I assume this means the danger has passed?" she asked. Her voice was light. Playful. Not at all suited for the situation, Jareth thought. Still, it was a nice delusion. The way she looked at him, the way she _touched_ him was...nice.

"Yes," he said, his eyes darting to her hand as it lowered from his face. Sarah took a deep breath.

"What a relief."

That statement lacked sentiment as her lips curled up in a smirk, but her arrogance did not offend him, nor did her ignorance worry him. He liked that look. He liked the trust it implied. He wanted to hang onto that —for as long as he could.

"Hm...we must have been sleeping for a while. It's gotta be well passed dinner time," she said to herself, turning to glance down the hallway once more. She started to fidget, so he moved back —his attention glued to her face as he stood with her.

She groaned as her stiff limbs were forced into action, arduously trying to straighten her knees before immediately plummeting back to the floor. Jareth lurched forward on instinct.

She gasped but was caught only a second later, her eyes quickly flickering to her hands which, in a panic, had gripped Jareth's forearms while he held her tightly under the shoulders.

Whatever bits of haze that remained from their slumber vanished instantly, replaced by a spike of adrenaline which Sarah prayed would not express itself as a blush.

He held her upright, her bent, lifeless legs hovering just over the floor. Sarah swallowed and looked away in as inconspicuous a manner as possible.

"Are you alright?" he asked. He was close to her. Real close. Sarah's hands flexed again.

"Yeah," she said in a high pitch. "I guess my legs must have fallen asleep...sorry."

She wasn't expecting that. Hadn't realized at all that her feet were little more than phantom limbs. God, this was embarrassing. What the fuck should she do? He was still holding onto her. Oh geez…

She tried to move and stand on her own, but, if not for Jareth's consistent grip, she would have fallen all over again.

"Wow, they're really gone, aren't they?" she asked. "Call a doctor. We might have to amputate." The self-deprecating strain in her smile was blatant, as that was probably the stupidest attempt at humor that had ever come out of her mouth —but it was entirely lost on Jareth. She watched his brow twitch as he drew back, apparently in alarm. Sarah blinked. "I'm kidding," she said quickly, deadpan. Jareth's expression hardened on her. Sarah was forced to look away.

"Could you maybe uh...just hold me here for a minute?" she asked. "I'm sure the feeling will come back soon." and she patted his forearm in a friendly, totally-not-self-conscious-at-all manner.

She was staring to the right, dissecting the shadows between the vaults in the ceiling and pretending this wasn't an extremely awkward fucking moment. Jareth did not respond to her, although she could _feel_ his eyes on her. A few seconds passed, maybe even a full minute, and then she gasped again when he suddenly reached down and swooped her up in his arms.

She peered sharply at him with wide, startled eyes to find him looking exceedingly frustrated. He growled a little before slanting his eyes down at her.

"I'm not particularly patient," he said, and turned to look ahead down the hall. "Where is your room?"

Sarah blanched. Oh, to be a specter of her own self. T'was this not a thing on which fairytales were made? Her tiny heart was near to burst as she tried to wrangle her shit together, because oh, how _chivalrous_ a _beast_ he could be.

She swallowed down her nerves, and her surprise, and her bashfulness, and everything fucking else as she lowered her head and pointed toward the other end of the hall.

"That way," she said, so meekly. Without noticing a hint of her swooning, Jareth turned around and walked.

Sarah stared at her hands knotting in her lap. Or rather, _his hand_ , four fingers at least —whatever she could see of it curling up around the underside of her leg. His other arm was behind her back, his hand grasping her by the bicep. As they walked, as Sarah directed him around one corner and the next, she remarked just how effortlessly he was carrying her. Like she weighed nothing at all. She also remarked on how mannerly, perhaps even sterile, he was now behaving. He only spoke to ask her which turn or stairwell to take next, and never, not once, looked down at her.

Oddly enough, this combination of things hit more of her buttons than she cared to admit. Was he really that oblivious? Would it be too much to lean her head against his shoulder?

Before long, the feeling started to return to her legs —and they were not happy about it. The usual tingle turned to needles, turned into enraged knifes that stabbed her poor muscles relentlessly. She tried to ignore and endure the sensation at first, but…

She started to fidget in his hold, and he glanced down to see her wincing.

" _Ah—_ " She made a noise of pain which compelled him to stop. His grip on her readjusted as she squirmed.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just...the feeling's coming back in my legs. It hurts a little," she said through a tight jaw, trying to save face by playing it off with a smile. Jareth frowned as he watched her wince turn into a grimace. "Ow...ow ow ow ow ow—"

Fuck.

Fucking fuck.

Was it normal for it to hurt so bad? Would it be better to move or keep still? Shit. She was about to ruin her _weak damsel_ moment by actually being weak. At the rate she was writhing, he would probably set her down any moment. She berated herself internally. _Endure, Sarah! Endure!_

"Hang onto me."

Sarah's head whipped up.

"What?"

Jareth did not bother to entertain her display, nor respond to her pointless question. She felt his arm behind her back shift, and instinctively wrapped her hands around his neck and braced. His arm moved lower to cradle her by the lower back, holding her without any effort at all as the arm under her legs let go.

She watched, with cheeks flaming anew, as he yanked up the skirt of her dress until it exposed her knees —all the while she could not stop thinking of how he was holding her with one arm. How _strong_ and _manly_ and _stoic_ he was.

They should start etching her gravestone now, she thought. God help her.

"Which leg is it?" he asked. Sarah blinked out of her daydreams and glanced down herself, minding to point her toes prettily.

"Um, both actually. But...the left one is worse."

She nibbled on her lip and stole a peak up at him. Thankfully, he was strictly business —staring very intently at her shins like he could see something within them. With a held breath, she watched him reach down and press two fingers to the top of her foot, then slowly dragged them upward.

She had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Not that it mattered. The only thing on her mind was how thankful she was to have bothered shaving her legs that day.

He brought the tips of his fingers to her knee, applied a gentle pressure, and then repeated the motion with the other leg. As he did this, Sarah noticed the pain quickly fade.

It was completely gone by the time he reached her other knee, life and function back in her custody once more. Sarah wiggled her toes in her shoes, regarding them with a look of awe as Jareth pulled her skirt back into place.

His arms went back to their original position —though Sarah was hesitant to release him.

"You made the pain go away? You can do that?" she asked. Jareth quirked a brow.

"It certainly seems that way, doesn't it?"

If he was making fun of her, it went over her head. She couldn't stop staring at her feet, turning her ankles about and marveling at how limber they felt.

"That's...amazing," she said.

Jareth, pulled in by the sense of wonder in her voice, glanced down at her.

"Not really," he replied dryly. His attention landed on the corner of her smile, on the crease it formed in her cheek. "It's actually...very rudimentary."

"That doesn't make it any less amazing," she replied. After a moment she felt his hands flex, and she realized that she no longer needed him as a crutch. She panicked a little as she stopped all her fiddling, fearful he may set her on her feet. She didn't want that.

But it seemed that tension was of her own design, for his grip soon settled and her nerves along with it. Sarah waded through a feeling of fleeting anticipation. Why was he still holding her? Was this something worth reading into? Should she say something? Yes? No? Shit.

Reluctantly, she ended up releasing the hold she had around his neck, then awkwardly pointed down the next hallway.

"So um...that way."

Another five minutes and they were at her room —leaving Sarah pretty damn pleased she'd been able to remember the way all by herself. But this was where things became tricky. Now she had no fucking clue what to do.

He was carrying her to her room —like a bride —to the place that housed her bed. They were alone and... _nah, nah, nah, you just get your head out of the gutter right now, Miss Williams!_

She swallowed as he reached out and opened the door for them. Then, without an invitation, stepped right on inside.

He set her down now, carefully, like she was still injured. She let her hands linger on him as he did so, then took a healthy step away.

"And...here we are," she said, shrugging her shoulders and glancing from left to right like a fucking loser. Goddammit. Why was she so aware of herself? Why did every quiet look from him seem to put her on the spot?

She chose to ignore her girlish insecurities and turned right around, walking away with confidence like she had a purpose in doing so. Jareth ignored her. Utterly. His attention was instead cast around the room as he took another step into it. Sarah glanced back with a bite on her lip.

The way he was looking around made her think this was something new to him, his expression cool and vacant. She wondered what exactly he was finding so interesting.

"So...you really didn't know where this was?" she asked.

"No," he replied. Sarah turned and glanced over at the door.

"Hm...where is your room? Is it close by?"

"No. My chambers are on the other side of the castle."

He paced slowly, keeping his arms concealed beneath his cape in a way that Sarah suspected was defensive. Like he was uncomfortable. Hm. So maybe he was feeling a little awkward too? Wouldn't that be something.

She slyly glanced at her bed, looming directly behind her now, and then back at him.

"Oh? Why am I so far away?"

She watched as he drifted towards the fresco on her wall, apparently too interested in it to bother responding. Sarah felt her arms crossing in reaction to his silence.

"Thank you, by the way," she went on. Jareth glanced over. "—for carrying me here, and for...you know, healing me." She did her best to remove all traces of nervousness from her posture, giving him a little smirk before glancing over at the clock. "Hm, it's not as late as I thought. Would you like to maybe...stay for a bit?"

Contrary to the screaming of her nerves, it seemed Sarah's mouth had schemes of its own. She had no idea where she'd gotten the courage to say that —let alone so naturally. Jareth had turned to stare at her now. His odd silence unsettled her.

"You did come all this way," she tacked on.

Jareth stared at her skeptically but did not respond, causing her to wonder if she were suddenly speaking in tongues. Was her offer ludicrous? But why would it be? Ugh. How freaking awkward...

With a flustered smile, Sarah turned away from him and walked over towards the door.

"We were out for the whole evening. Are you hungry?"

She'd just reached the rope and glanced back. Jareth was still staring at her, and then he finally spoke.

"Not particularly."

Well fuck.

"Humor me then," Sarah said, keeping her spirits light and totally unphased. "I had to miss dinner in order to be your pillow. I think that entitles me to cash in our raincheck." She stared at him challengingly, feeling a little more confident with the way his brows knitted together with apparent confusion. "Or are you suddenly busy now?" she asked, upping the stakes with a shrewdly cocked brow. He did not respond. She rang the rope. "I'm going to freshen up quick. Why don't you take off your cloak and make yourself comfortable? I'll be back in a minute."

She did not look at him this time, lest he be given the chance to protest. Instead, she turned on a dime and glided straight to her spa. Truth be told, there was nothing about her that needed _freshening_. She did, however, need a minute to regroup.

After a couple of deep breaths, a quick pat down, and a messy hair tussle, Sarah felt fit to resume her...whatever it was she was trying to accomplish by all this.

 _Stop over thinking it,_ she told herself. _It's not like this is a date or anything. It's not like this has to mean anything at all. It's just...dinner. Easy peasy._

She closed her eyes and exhaled before passing the threshold back into her room. When she opened them, she spied him staring, very intently, at the mural on the wall. To her pleasure, he had taken off his cape, which gave her a very appraising view. His pants were black, his waistcoat a deep blue with a white poet shirt underneath. The curve of his spine at that angle prompted her inner voice to remark just what fine posture he had. But —but how dare he! How dare he stand there with complete nonchalance! She couldn't be the only one feeling anxious here. She refused.

Denying any and all thoughts of expectation that might be otherwise compromising, Sarah shook her head clear as she casually joined him at his side.

"It's pretty interesting, isn't it?" she said, stealing a glance up at him. "I find it kind of ominous...the way there are things hiding in the shadows. I wonder if those women know they're being watched." She looked away as she spoke, her gaze weaving between layers of carefully refined undergrowth to expose the mysteries therein.

Jareth's eyes slanted towards her without her realizing.

"They look rather unsuspecting, don't they?" he asked.

One of Sarah's brows arched.

"Yes, but looks can be deceiving," she replied, then pursed her lips in thought. "Maybe they're putting on a show for the shadows? Maybe it's a ruse. Maybe _they_ are the predators, and the creatures being drawn in are their victims." Her brow turned down as she mused, her interpretation not one he was anticipating. He gave her more of his attention now, but hers was captured by the painting. "Perception is everything in art —that's what my professor says, anyway. There are certain connotations that come from the contrast of light and dark. Every decision made by the artist is a conscious one. But…" and her head tilted to one side. "—maybe _deception_ is more of the point. Especially here, _where nothing is as it seems_ and all that."

She turned and looked at him, her expression frank. There was a wrinkle in Jareth's brow.

"That's very insightful," he said —she cracked a wide grin.

"Or I'm just bullshitting," she said and shrugged. "It's all the same, really."

She looked away from him and back at the painting, and he watched her eyes flicker quickly between the details. For some reason, her intrigue...mattered.

"I'm surprised you've given it any thought at all," he said. Sarah looked over curiously.

"Why?"

He held her stare for a moment, and then shrugged as he looked away.

"I don't know. Perhaps because...no one's ever cared to."

Sarah frowned. He sounded a little dejected, hiding his hands in his pockets as he spoke.

"Have you seen this before?" she asked. Jareth's brow twitched as he stared outward vacantly.

"I'd hope so. I'm the one who painted it."

Sarah drew back in a look of surprise.

"What? Are you serious?" she asked, then looked over at the mural like she was seeing it all anew. Jareth observed this reaction discreetly. Her brow lifted high and she gaped. "You're incredible."

For reasons Jareth would not dignify by naming, he felt himself wince and look away.

Sarah turned towards him a second later, her eyes bright and wide.

"You could be famous in my world. Do you like art?" she asked. Jareth shrugged.

"Not...particularly," he said a bit stiffly. "It was a hobby. Something I haven't bothered with in...many years."

Sarah cocked a brow at him, but the rest of her expression was deadpan —humility only suited him so well.

" _Hmph_. Some hobby," she said and crossed her arms. "I've seen murals like this in a few other rooms. You painted those too?"

"Yes. There are many scattered throughout the castle," he replied, and this time turned his head in the complete opposite direction of her. "I took up painting when I first came here. It was very time consuming and required...focus."

His eye twitched on that last word, the sullen drop in tone enough to catch her attention. She tried her best to get a look at his expression, and just now realized he seemed a little uncomfortable. Wait, was he actually feeling... _shy_?

"Well, you're very talented," she said. Jareth did not react. "Why did you stop?"

He shrugged again.

"After a while the activity felt...pointless."

"So you lost passion then?"

Jareth's eyes flickered towards her, a reaction which she took advantage of by locking onto his stare. Hm? Had she caught him off guard?

Jareth hesitated before replying, "I suppose."

Sarah tried hard to stifle a grin, unsure of why she now felt so amused in the first place. She'd never seen this side of Jareth before either —uncalculated, uncertain, _cute_. It made her want to tease him. She did, however, have more tact than that.

But only a little.

"And card castles are somehow an upgrade from this?" she asked mockingly. Jareth's stern expression remained. Admitting defeat, she glanced down with a sad kind of smile. "That's too bad," she went on, pinching her fingers. "I always stop to admire those paintings when I find them. They're so beautiful and haunting. It's hard to look away. I'm sure the others feel that way, too."

Jareth's stare on her lingered, falling vacant on the relaxed curve of her brow as she mused over the brushstrokes. He nearly let his guard down when a little knock came at the door.

Both she and Jareth turned just as the door inched open.

"Good evening, Mistress," a goblin said —the same one who'd been bringing her breakfast. It entered the room and, in a simultaneous movement, twitched and stood rigid at the sight of Jareth beside her. "Oh. And...Your Majesty."

It bowed its head deeply and fisted its hands at its sides. Sarah ignored the tension there and took a step towards it.

"Hello. Are the kitchens still open?" she asked. The goblin straightened, darted its eyes to Jareth, and then focused its attention strictly on her.

"Y-yes."

"Great," Sarah replied, smiling happily as she gestured at Jareth. "His Majesty and I will take our dinner now, please."

The goblin stared skeptically, its mouth hanging open in confusion. A tick moved across its brow, and then it dipped its head in acknowledgement.

"Right away, Mistress," it said. Then, after another low bow, turned around swiftly and left.

Sarah turned to Jareth.

"Well? Shall we have a seat?"

That question was rhetorical, if not by her tone, then by the way she immediately went to take her place at the dining table just shy of them.

Jareth joined her without a word, seeming to keep his eyes averted from her in the process. Sarah tilted her head as she tried to figure out what was now making him feel awkward, then a very sobering thought emerged: _if no one ever sees him, then how long has it been since he's sat down with another person like this? Had dinner with someone and just...talked?_

She let her frown show through while he wasn't paying attention. But, by the time he finally settled in and looked over at her, she was all smiles.

"So...There's something I'm supposed to ask you," she said, trying to break the ice.

"Oh?"

"Yes. We're um...I guess we're having a garden party next week…" and her eyes rolled away. She sat stiffly in her seat and kept her hands in her lap, wondering why she felt so nervous again.

" _We?_ " Jareth repeated.

"Yeah. The rest of the staff. It's kind of like a welcome party for me, I guess," she explained, slowly twirling her hand as she spoke. "I don't know. I think it sounds kind of primpy, but...would you like to come?"

Oh God. There it was. The reason she was feeling so anxious. Was she really asking him out right now? Is that what was happening? Why the fuck were all the relationship cues falling on her?!

Thankfully, the goblin returned with their meal trays before the butterflies in her stomach could simultaneously combust, so she used that minor break to get a hold of herself.

The goblin set a tray in front of each of them, along with a glass of wine, bowed, and wordlessly left again.

Sarah was focusing on laying her napkin over her lap when Jareth finally responded.

"That would be inadvisable," he said. Sarah glanced up.

"Why?"

Jareth paused. She had that unguarded, worried countenance again. He brushed off whatever queer reaction it spurred in him before tactfully lowering his gaze towards his plate.

"I told you before, my presence unsettles them. You would enjoy yourself more if I were not there," he stated plainly. Sarah's look shifted to disappointment as she watched him cut up his food.

"I disagree," she said, gripping her cutlery tighter when he reflexively looked over at her again. "I'm not inviting you because I think it would please them. I'm inviting you because it would please me." Her own boldness surprised her, which caused her to immediately bite down on the inside of her cheek. Jareth had locked eyes with her. She was feeling nervous all over again. "But...look, I'm not going to nag you," she quickly tangented, flickering her attention away from him and down at her plate. "It wouldn't be any fun unless you enjoy yourself, too." And she cut into her steak aggressively. "Just saying, I'd be happy if you came."

She kept her front a cool one, successfully conveying casualty while she ate. She even started to believe it —forgetting the fact that he was _still_ staring at her.

"...why?" he inevitably asked. Sarah paused and lowered her fork from her mouth.

"Because I enjoy your company?" she replied —peering up just in time to watch his scrutiny steel.

He looked a little bothered now. Sarah placed her fork down on the table.

"Do you not resent me?" he asked.

Sarah's brow drew tight in the center.

"Why would I?" she countered. Jareth arched a brow.

"The circumstances of our acquaintance, to start."

And now she bit her lip, frowning down at her plate as she responded, "Jareth…I have nothing to be bitter about." Before he could retort, she glanced up sharply and held his gaze. "I'm not a dumb kid anymore. You were right. I asked for Toby to be taken, and you took him. I asked for him back, and you provided an opportunity for me when you didn't have to. You could have just kept him. And, when I did win, you kept up your end of the bargain and sent us both home."

Her expression softened as she spoke, shifting towards the guise of dispassion along the way.

"Lochlan explained the book to me, so I know —now— that I was the one who wrote it. I filled it with my own temptations. You didn't single me out, did you?" she asked. He did not reply, but the tether of their stares spoke for him. Sarah sighed as she pushed some of the food around her plate with her fork. "No one forced me to make that wish. I don't blame you for anything."

She thought that would be the end of it, and was thus surprised when he pushed the matter further.

"And now?"

Sarah paused.

"And now, _what?"_ she repeated.

Jareth's jaw tightened as a ghost of frustration passed through him.

"Do you not resent me, _now_?" he clarified. Her returning expression was one of confusion. He tried his best not to scoff at it while glancing away. "You were very upset when I accepted your proposal. I took away your chance to go back home —and without any consideration for your feelings," he said with some snark.

"My feelings?" Sarah repeated —with offense. Jareth peered back over at her. She looked like she was about to scold him. "I came here fully aware of the consequences, Jareth," she affirmed. "I knew there was a fifty percent chance I wouldn't get to go home, and I accepted that possibility well before slapping your pretty face. Would I have preferred to have gone straight home? Yes. But...this arrangement will work. It's still worth it."

The level of conviction which kept her so perfectly poised did not make any sense to him. He stared at her dubiously before arching a brow.

" _Still worth it?_ _Hmph_ , It must have been some price they paid to be worth your future and freedom," he said derisively. Sarah called him out on it immediately.

"What's that? You almost sound curious," she said, arching a sharp brow right back at him. "I thought you didn't care about what got me here?"

She spoke haughtily. _Looked_ haughty. Jareth found himself scowling on instinct.

"I said it didn't matter," he snapped. "...I never said I didn't care."

He looked down just then, which was just as well because it left him ignorant of the tick that shot through her. Her confident posture relaxed, and she stared at him without any idea of how to retort. She'd been messing around, but the tone of his voice had been dead serious…

When she tuned back in, she noticed he was now glaring at her.

"Well?"

Sarah licked her lips as her eyes turned to the side.

"My father was sick," she said, anxiously tapping along the table's edge. "—dying, actually. He had cancer. Do you know what that is?" she asked. Jareth nodded. "Well, he was terminal. Late stage. Lochlan showed up one day and said he could heal him if I agreed to marry his master..."

"Did he? So he gave you his blessing then?" Jareth asked, and now it was her turn to nod. A small shade lowered over Jareth's eyes in response, but she didn't notice. "I see. How...fortunate."

"Yeah. It was," she replied. "I didn't know it was a marriage to you at first. Not that those details mattered. I was fit to marry anyone so long as Lochlan held up his end. So...to be honest...I'm kind of relieved it's you," she said and looked up with a meek shrug. "At least we have some repertoire."

To her disappointment, Jareth did not respond to that. No, instead he left her rather intimate comment hanging between them as his eyes averted. Sarah wondered why it was so damn hard to get him to build this bridge.

Jareth's focus fell absently on nothing, his brow furrowing as some unnamed thing awoke behind his eyes. A moment passed. And then two...

"I never expected to see you again," he said. Sarah sat up attentively. "Even now, your presence here is...surreal."

If she didn't know better, she'd have thought he sounded unhappy over that fact. Maybe he was. Maybe he was already regretting his pledge to her. Maybe he had acted on sheer impulse because she was, as he himself proclaimed, _such an unexpected treat_.

Or, maybe, she should stop thinking so negatively and instead enjoy the moment —and his unguarded expression— for what it was.

She hid her smile behind the rim of her cup as she spied on him.

" _Hmph_. Diddo."

A sense of distraction remained as they carefully resumed their meals. Sarah eyed him like a hawk, trying to decipher whatever code that could be pulled from a series of totally mundane mannerisms. He looked lost in thought —but nonetheless calm. She wondered if maybe he was still tired, worn out from...being worn out.

"So...speaking of our repertoire...can I ask you a question?" she asked. Jareth paused and quirked her a brow. "...what happened to the others? Past labyrinth runners, I mean."

Again her eyes scanned him for any insightful reaction, but he only glanced downward.

"It depends."

"On?"

"Their circumstances." His reply was quick, though obviously restrained. Sensing this was going to turn into a full discussion, he lowered his fork and elaborated. "The...parameters of the wish they made and the story the book told."

"Could you...be more specific, maybe?" she asked. Sensing reluctance from him, she went first. "My first night here, everyone was downright shocked to hear I was a runner. Apparently a lot of them die. So, please spare me the consideration and be frank with me. What happened to them?"

Jareth just stared at her for a moment, testing her it seemed.

"You just said it yourself. They die. …Sometimes."

Sarah replied with a quizzical brow. Jareth exhaled and shifted in his seat.

"The labyrinth is a dangerous place to play. More often than not, wishers fall prey to its many tricks and traps."

"And the ones who don't?"

Again Jareth paused. Sarah started to worry over whatever the hell his problem was.

"Those who do not perish prematurely often exceed the time limit. What happens next is, again, dependent on their wish. Sometimes they are punished —turned into goblins, for example. Sometimes they are sent on their merry way empty handed. If the life of another was offered, as was in your case, then that person would be equally punished," he explained. Sarah's head tilted as she regarded him.

"And...you carry out these acts?" she asked.

"Not necessarily."

 _Not necessarily_ — Oof. First from Lochlan, and now from him? That phrase was going to give her a complex pretty soon.

"Define, please."

"The book" Jareth said and wiped his hands with his napkin. "I made it a portent for a reason. The game is crafted around the mind of the wisher; the consequences of failure being a reflection of that person's guilt. What happens to them is whatever they feel they deserve. Magic is binding. The contracts I form are binding. Playing God is not as much fun as you might think, so I've crafted these constraints to apply to me as well. I give myself very little room to operate outside of the rules established by the book —it forces me to...think creatively. Those rules change for every wisher."

"And the people who do win? What happens to them?"

She figured they both knew where she was going with this —which was (in all likelihood) why he looked so damn uncomfortable. Now that he'd finally started talking to her, however, she couldn't help but voice her curiosities —starting with all that vague, fucked up shit the maids had said about him the night she'd arrived.

Did he really kill them off? How did she feel about that? Why had she never taken a step back to consider those things?

Jareth, wholly perceptive of her ill guarded thoughts as they dashed across her face, raised a challenging brow in her direction.

"What happened to you?" he asked. Sarah blinked out of her musing to frown at him. _What happened to me?_ she thought. _I went home...safe and sound..._

Jareth's head tilted as her gaze lowered.

"You look skeptical," he said.

"I'm just...nevermind," Sarah replied and glanced away. "Those maids are stupid." She shook her head and made a little wince, then looked back over at him to explain herself. "They psyched me out a little, made it seem like...you were killing them off for fun or something," she said with a forced smile and an awkward shrug.

"I don't kill them off," Jareth replied, dryly. Sarah was on the verge of relief when he kept on talking. "...but I can't say watching whatever happens isn't fun." He looked up with the intention of catching her stare. She gave it readily, though it was totally unreadable. "You don't look particularly alarmed," he added.

Sarah angled her head.

"Did you think I would be?" she countered. Jareth did not answer, so she supposed that meant _yes_. "I'm not under some delusion that the code of ethics is fully aligned between our two cultures. And besides, gladiator games were a pretty big thing in my world once upon a time, too —so I get it."

"You _get it_?" Jareth repeated, his lip curling like those words left a foul taste on his tongue. Sarah's brow turned down, fighting off uncertainty.

"Well...yeah. Profound boredom can push a person to seek out some extreme forms of stimulation. Add in the capabilities of magic —which you're clearly desensitized by— and being surrounded by creatures that are unnaturally robust and prone to fits of jubilant chaos...seems like a perfect combination to feed some old fashioned mob mentality, am I right?" Was she simplifying the matter for her own sanctity? Maybe. Still, she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. For now, at least. "Multiply that by however many years you've been alone here and...yes, I can see how watching people having to physically fight against their own conscience, futilely or not, might be somewhat...satisfying."

Jareth stared at her dubiously.

"You don't think it cruel? Barbaric?"

His tone implied sheer disbelief. Sarah heard her inner voice echo that question with equal confoundment.

"I don't think you were especially cruel or barbaric towards me," she said.

The way he was regarding her was hard to gauge. It was like...he wanted her to be horrified. And yet, she wasn't. Maybe it was because the nature of the conversation was theoretical. Maybe she was just an apathetic person. Regardless, her responses were catching him off guard, so she rolled with it.

"You just said you have to operate by the terms wishers set in the book. That means their fates are decided by the weight of their conscience before they even meet you. Really...it has nothing to do with you at all."

"You're splitting hairs now. Aren't you, love?"

Sarah wriggled her brow.

"How so?"

Jareth grinned in a way that was less than friendly. It etched higher on one side and sharpened the look in his eyes.

"Don't forget, I'm the one who casts that book to the other worlds in the first place. And I know full well what may or may not happen to those poor, unfortunate souls."

Sarah pursed her lips in contemplation. He was probably trying to intimidate her with that wicked countenance, but she hardly acknowledged it.

" _Hm._..so it's a bit of a grey area then, huh?" she asked, glancing down at her plate as she picked up her utensils. "I guess I'll have to get back to you…"

She went back to eating like they'd never missed a beat. Jareth kept a watchful eye on her, continuously blindsided by her odd behavior.

"What?" she suddenly asked.

Jareth blinked and realized she was now watching him too, paused with her fork raised and a rather expectant look on her face.

He drew back and shook his head.

"Nothing. I suppose I just...anticipated you being a tad more righteous than that," he said, then followed her lead and cut into his food.

"Why? Because I'm a _heroine_?" she snidely asked. Jareth peered up. "It'd be a little hypocritical of me to claim the moral high ground here, considering I wished away my one-year-old brother into the custody of an inhuman entity with the vague knowledge that he would be turned into a goblin," she went on, flatly, before turning her attention back to her meal. "And, like I said, if what you're saying is true, then runners are essentially torturing themselves. You simply put the rod in their hands. If I could blame you for _that_ , then I could just as easily blame them for being selfish or cruel enough to make a wish in the first place." She twirled her fork around in circles distractedly, then paused. "Although...I do think taking pleasure from watching someone else genuinely suffer is a little fucked up—" and she looked up and straight at him. "Do you take pleasure in watching other people suffer?"

Her expression was open as she'd asked that. If it were her intention, she would have succeeded in putting him on the spot. Jareth lowered his fork to the table, his aura turning even more standoffish.

"It depends," he said, vaguely. Sarah quirked a brow.

"...on the circumstances?"

Jareth nodded, reluctantly it seemed. Sarah did her best to analyze him in a brief moment of quiet.

"Are you talking about your markings?" she asked. "Or...whatever it is they're supposed to warn me about?" her head tilted a little in a gesture of encouragement, but this time he remained silent. He looked tense now. She frowned. "You can tell me. I'm not going to judge you."

She was caught off guard when he suddenly huffed.

"Oh really? Is your evaluation of my character not our current topic?" he asked rather curtly. Sarah drew back at the abrupt change in his demeanor.

"Lochlan said...that the things you do when you're in that state aren't your fault. So...if you've done... _things_...I'm willing to try to understand your side of it," she explained, hoping her neutral tone would mollify him.

She watched him huff again, cracking a sneer as he looked sharply away from her. He withdrew his hands from the table and crossed his arms. Sarah wondered why he was suddenly so defensive.

" _Willing to try_ —how magnanimous," he said with sharp derision. His tone lowered, and his eyes narrowed. Sarah was just starting to feel concerned when he suddenly stood as if to leave—

"Hey— where are you going?" she asked, jumping to her feet as he headed straight for the door. "Jareth—"

She caught him by the sleeve and pulled back. Jareth paused mid-step and turned to glare down at her. "Just...hold up. Please," she said, reluctantly releasing his arm and curling her fingers against the considerable tension she could now sense radiating from him. She opened her mouth to speak and frowned. "I'm—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

And she really didn't. What was the big deal? He was fine just a second ago, wasn't he? Was she not paying close enough attention? She didn't get why he was freaking out right now.

Jareth turned to face her and gave her a nasty smile.

"No, you're just riddled with curiosity," he said sardonically. Sarah recoiled a little more. "There's a reason why they say curiosity killed the cat. It would be wise for you to show a bit more restraint," he continued, biting down on that last word before proceeding to storm off once more. In a panic, Sarah reached out and yanked him back again —only to have him immediately tear himself out of her grasp.

"Stop it," she said (pleaded?). Whatever her tone, the beseech worked and he stilled. He was still glaring at her though. Sarah stood as tall as she could. "You're...trying to intimidate me. I'm not that dumb," she stated.

"No, but you're still an idiot."

Sarah blinked like he'd just reached out and slapped her in the face, watching in silence as he angled himself away from her.

"You patronized me so well just now, but don't think for one moment that you even know the first thing about me," Jareth said, talking down to her in a manner that, this time, actually had effect. Sarah tried not to cower. "So please, spare me. I have no interest in being fodder to your _curiosity_."

Sarah's hands lowered to her sides as she stared up at him, denying them the desire to fist. He was being nasty. Mean. But, even as her face flushed with feeble distress, she smothered her nerves and called him out on this very _blatant_ show of self-defense.

"Jareth…" she started, swallowing back the tremble in her voice. "I'm not asking you these things to be self-serving. I'm asking because I want to know you better. I want to help."

If there was ever an honest moment between them, it was now —and she hoped that he knew that. She stood with a tight jaw and stared into his eyes. She wanted to reach out again but couldn't bring herself to do so. She was confused, and sorry, and eager. He'd made himself so vulnerable to her but a short while ago, so why…?

She didn't get it. Didn't get the figurative wall, in all its ferocity, which now stood so firmly between them.

Jareth stared at her just as intently, and she hoped that because of it her sentiment would make its way though. But...

After a moment his decision was made. He gave her a dismissive _tch_ and glanced at the floor, shaking his head incredulously as he composed himself.

"As I said—" and he slowly looked up. " _Spare me_."

His eyes on hers cut like knives, but not before she could see the passion in them vanish. Not before she could see them become dead and void. See him close down on her. Entirely.

She was at a loss for words as he turned his back on her, and watched on in stupefaction as he walked away. He let the door slam shut behind him. And then he was gone. Just like that.

The sound of the door jolted her into action, and she blinked rapidly out of her stupid daze. What the fuck? Did he really just run away from her like that? What? Why was he so angry? Was her question really that triggering?

She felt anxiety bubble up into her throat as she debated chasing after him, but knew it would be better to let him cool off. Instead, she bit her nails and frowned hopelessly at the door.

She'd been too cocky, hadn't she? Pushed him too hard, too soon? Maybe he was right. Maybe she'd let her curiosity run away with her. But...what the fuck else was she supposed to do? It wasn't like all this mystery made him _less_ interesting! And, better yet, what the fuck was she going to do to fix this?

 _Goddamn it, Sarah. You pet the lion too hard. Don't be so surprised it bit you_ —her inner voice chided. _Pet? More like poked. God... Is there even a difference?_

With a sigh, Sarah slowly turned to look over her shoulder, staring back at the mural and all the shadowed figures lurking within. They seemed more lively somehow —vulgar spectators, curious and delighted by her vexation.

She cursed them all.

With another gruff sigh, she clawed her fingers into her scalp and paced. This wasn't how she was expecting the night to go and, once again, the goddamn construction effort fell entirely on her.

_Fucking emo, angsty, haughty, too fucking tall and dark, and intriguing, magical bully of a goddamn fae! Have I not been pleasant? Have I not been patient and understanding? Why won't you just tell me?! Ugh!_

She growled as her thoughts roared, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She needed to calm down and she knew it. She was the one who'd upset him, remember?

...

* _Sigh_ *

She was going to need to come up with one hell of an apology for this, wasn't she? …if she ever saw him again, anyway.

Fucking hell.


End file.
